Candle in the Dark
by Creen
Summary: This is basically KOTOR... but as a story, instead of a game... but it also deals with mysteries in the game. Where was the Promised Lands, and why was it so obvious? What really happened to Trask Ulgo? Dead, alive? Whose mind did they use to reprogram Revan? It's still about the main characters, but the endings of fleeting quests are seen a little better.
1. Chapter 1: Dreams

Darth Revan peered out of the panoramic viewport. He noted the changing formations of the Republic vessels over Ord Mantel. He issued commands to the captains of his fleet, watching, calculating. He saw no intent behind the Republic movements. They were simply a smokescreen for something else. He could not anticipate what, though. A blatant movement caught Revan's gaze. Malak's flagship was pulling too far ahead out of formation.

Revan quickly rebuked his apprentice, and drew the aggressive man away from the blood, and back where he belonged. An Interdictor-class battleship did not have the firepower to seriously contend with three Hammerhead-class cruisers. Although Revan's fleet outnumbered the Republic's, it was not his capital ships that were inflicting the most damage. He had three carriers among his flotilla, and the Republic had only cruisers, corvettes, and a few battleships. As such, he had nearly three times as many fighter craft in the engagement. That they were unmanned simply added to the abandon with which he could sacrifice them to achieve his ends.

An officer approached the Dark Lord, and humbly informed him that another group of ships had dropped into the battle, behind their formation. Revan gazed at the tactical display, projected via hologram from the floor. Three Republic ships had decanted from hyperspace _very_ close. It took incredible precision to plot a synchronized jump like that. Revan peered closer at the classifications; two small Foray-class corvettes, and a larger, Hammerhead-class cruiser. If this was the Republic's master stroke, then they knew something that Revan did not about warfare. Such a small force was a negligible threat. Revan returned his attention to the battle, and resumed coordination of his fleet.

((()))

Bastila Shan glanced around the crowded shuttle. A platoon of thirty Republic commandos and six Jedi rode in silence. Although Bastila couldn't see the other Ministry-class shuttle, she could feel the identical complement of their sister-shuttle through the force. Once again, she nervously wiped her fingers on the legs of her battle suit, and touched the hilt of her lightsaber for comfort.

A squadron of Aurek-class fighters screened the slower shuttles from any Sith interceptors that might break off from the main battle.

This plan was a risky, last throw of the dice. If they did not succeed, then the Republic was finished.

((()))

The republic shuttles screamed into the enemy hanger bay, and fired their braking thrusters, narrowly avoiding the inner wall of the hanger. Their ramps lowered even as they landed, and Republic Commandos streamed out into the hanger. Blaster fire and dying screams filled the air as technicians and crewman fell to the sudden and accurate invaders.

Two squads of commandos, as well as a pair of Jedi, quickly began to barricade and fortify the hanger. They would have to hold this position, indefinitely, against a crew of five thousand, and an infantry complement of thirty-five hundred.

((()))

"Grenade out!" Sergeant Draven shouted, hurling a fragmentation grenade around the corner. The explosion knocked out the section's lighting, plunging the hall into darkness, lit only by occasional sparks. His squad of five was quickly advancing through one of the flight decks. Their goal was to create as much noise as possible. _Sound like twenty-men_, was the Jedi Commander's exact words. Since they were commandos, the five men, as well as every other commando, had taken it upon themselves to sound like a _frelling_ platoon. Return fire from a slumped shape slapped into Kyle's shoulder pauldron, but the sturdy armor held, for the moment.

((()))

Bastila ducked beneath her opponent's blade, and slashed at his legs. The Sith snarled, and blocked her golden blade with his own ruby hued weapon. Nirik's purple lightsaber neatly clipped the distracted Sith's hands off at the wrist, then tracked through the disarmed Force-user's neck.

"How close to the bridge?" Bastila gasped, wiping sweat from her brow.

Nirik shrugged, "Three decks?" he guessed, glancing over at one of the commandos, who nodded in confirmation.

"Commander, we have wounded," the captain reported grimly, pointing at two of her men, one missing an arm at the shoulder, the second a leg at the knee. A third commando was injecting them with stims to stave off shock and pain, since lightsaber wounds were self cauterizing, and bleeding was not an issue.

"Get them into a defensible position, we'll pick them up on our way back," Bastila ordered. The captain hesitated for a moment, but she knew how important this mission was. "Nelson, Danvers, get these men set up for a siege."

They would most likely not return in time to save these men.

Nirik touched Bastila's arm, "There are always hard decisions in war," he said sadly.

Bastila looked him in the eye, "War is sacrifice."

((()))

Kyle Draven paused for a moment, and took a breather. They hadn't met any resistance for several minutes. "Ricki, where the hell are we?" Draven asked. They'd had to retreat down an access corridor, after making contact with half a company of Sith infantry.

"Somewhere near the reactor core, maybe," the Devaronian told him.

"Let's go disrupt some systems," Draven suggested, and Ricki led the way. Today was a good day.

((()))

Darth Revan continued to survey the battlefield, keeping half an ear cocked to reports flooding his bridge. Commandos and Jedi knights had boarded his ship. They had come for him. It was the only possible reason. Although he was receiving sporadic sightings all over the ship, he knew that at least some of them were heading for the bridge. The other sightings were simply a smokescreen to sow confusion, and help the primary group achieve their objective. He had already stationed his best soldiers in the halls leading to the bridge, as well as a handful of the Dark Jedi. The rest were hunting through the ship, to purge the smokescreen. He had the manpower to be thorough, after all.

((()))

Bastila stepped over half of a Sith trooper, and set her gaze on the doors to the bridge. They had arrived. Only seven commandos had made it this far… but Bastila still had three Jedi at her back, ready for battle. They could do this. They must do this, for the Republic.

"Breach the doors," Bastila ordered, and the commandos wearily set up their equipment to breach the blast doors.

_May the Force be with us._

((()))

Revan looked up. The enemy had arrived. He sent his men to take up positions at the rear of the bridge. He must not be disturbed.

The _blast_ doors _exploded_, which struck Revan as ironically amusing, and misleading. He paid no attention though. The Republic was making a move on his right flank, a feint, to try and draw out Malak. Predictably, Malak cooperated, and a small fragment of the Sith fleet followed, becoming trapped in the crossfire between a pack of Republic corvettes and cruisers, cut off from the bulk of Revan's fleet.

Revan felt a flash of irritation, and pulled back several cruisers from their own independent gambits, and redirected them to saving his impatient apprentice.

((()))

Bastila's first impression of the Dark Lord was… poise. He exuded calm, like still, dark waters that concealed a lurking predator. Then the shooting started, and she focused on the fight at hand. There were several Dark Jedi in the room, as well as two dozen Sith infantry, and twice that number of operators in the crew pits.

"For the Republic!" Bastila shouted, and her men roared raggedly, charging.

((()))

Kyle laughed softly, and casually shot another of the Sith troopers trying to retake the maintenance booth. Ricki was buried up to his waist in a maintenance duct, fiddling on the innards of something mechanical that looked very important, and_ delicate_. Sihdar was slumped in the doorway, the throat of his armor had not been able to stop the blaster bolt that killed him. Yorik and Greev were still kicking though, and intent to pay the Sith back in kind.

"And there goes artificial gravity on G-deck…" Ricki murmured, tossing the removed components and chips aside.

((()))

Blood pounded in Bastila's ears, even as she fought to hold her focus. Nirik, Vorn, and Castin stood at her back, their lightsabers humming angrily. The bodies of commandos and Sith were scattered all over the bridge. Only one Sith remained on the bridge, back still turned to them, coordinating his fleet.

"You cannot win, Revan," Bastila called. A chill ran down her spine, as the Sith Lord turned his head slightly, as if just suddenly noticing them.

A pair of lightsabers flipped from his belt, and into his hands, igniting red and purple, respectively.

"You do not _understand_," the Sith Lord whispered, his velvet voice heavy with regret.

Then battle commenced. Castin, the most aggressive of the Jedi present, was the first to tangle with Revan's blades. The veteran Jedi probed his enemy's defenses, noting with a flicker of fear, that the Dark Lord was utilizing two separate lightsaber forms, simultaneously.

Darth Revan kept the aggressive Jedi Guardian's blue lightsaber on the defensive, using _Juyo_ with the purple lightsaber in his left hand, held in a traditional forward grip. He could feel all of the Jedi present, like pinpricks in the force, informing him of their intentions. His right hand held his red lightsaber in a reverse grip, so that the blade ran along his forearm. With it, he utilized his own flavor of _Shien_ to keep the other three Jedi at bay. He had not been called a lightsaber virtuoso falsely.

Bastila felt her frustration beginning to rise, despite her attempts to remain calm, and centered within the Force. Even four against one, the Sith Lord proved to be untouchable. As she probed his defenses, she was staggered by his sheer presence in the Force, like a black hole. It felt like he was sucking the oxygen out of the room.

Castin screamed, and held the stump of his right arm, before a Force-assisted kick from the Dark Lord sent him crashing into a bulkhead.

Vorn intervened, his emerald weapon in sharp counterpoint to the purple blade. Revan was a flurry of movement, his two blades engaging and dueling three blades.

((()))

"Ricki, can you vent this section?" Draven asked, double checking the pressure seals on his armor.

"Yes… I think so," the devaronian commando said thoughtfully, poking around inside the command panel's guts. A pair of spindly humanoid battle droids clattered down the corridor, blindly firing at the barricade of supply containers.

"I can hear the rest of their friends coming," Greev said, worried, as he slotted his third to last power cell into his rifle.

((()))

Bastila rose from the floor, and called her lightsaber to hand. At the other end of the bridge, the Dark Lord glanced at the useless hilt in his left hand, and tossed the destroyed lightsaber aside casually. Bastila knew it had been more luck than skill on her part.

"Bastila Shan. Join me, _please_. With your power, I could bring an end to this pointless war, saving countless lives. Stand at my side, help me protect our people!" The _Revanchist_ urged.

Bastila, for a moment, felt a flicker of doubt: the Dark Lord was not lying. Revan felt this seed of doubt, and tried to caress it into bloom, "Malak has fallen too far to ever be redeemed. I need a new apprentice, one who can still feel compassion, and mercy, to help me in my quest. You need not turn to the Darkside, Bastila, to help me save the Republic from itself…"

Bastila panted, confused. The Dark Lord was not influencing her mind. How then? What was this doubt? How was he so… convincing? Could it be possible? Was he… well, not right, but perhaps not completely wrong? She reeled, and in so doing, caught sight of her dead companions.

_No_. She slowly looked up at Darth Revan, and in her face he saw her answer.

"A pity," he shrugged.

The two warriors met in battle once more. Reduced to only a single lightsaber, Revan varied his Forms in a dizzying sequence of _Juyo, Makashi, Shien, Ataru, and Niman._ Bastila had never fought a practitioner of all seven forms of lightsaber combat before. She was talented, yes, but Revan was talented, and had nearly ten years of experience, compared to her two years of informal knighthood.

With a beautiful parry, Bastila's lightsaber flew from her hands, and Revan raised his hand, pinning her to the wall with the Force.

"Death is… so final. Will you not change your mind?" Revan implored her, loathe to destroy so rare and powerful a gift as Bastila's.

"I'll never turn," Bastila spat, her eyes darting to the ruby blade at her throat. Revan could feel her fear. She might believe that she was ready to die, but she was far too young to have consigned herself to the true idea of death. If presented a way out, whether she knew it or not, she would take it, Revan knew… with the proper motivation. He would enjoy breaking this one. The slower, the better, he thought coldly.

"Normally I do not offer second chances to my enemies, Bastila, but you are… unique. Think carefully. If you say no, then you are dead. You cannot help anyone. If you say _yes_, then later, you might have a second chance to strike me down when I am not prepared… and you get to live. You would be a hero, respected not just for your gift, but also for your courage, and skill. Think about it…"

Bastila stared into Revan's expressionless black visor, inches from her face. She felt the heat at her throat. The young woman, presented with death, or an easy way out… faltered, Revan saw. For a brief moment, she considered the possibility…

Revan was a master of persuasion. Against younger Jedi, he was devastating. They couldn't understand that brutish Force persuasion was nowhere near as powerful, or dangerous as knowing the _right_ words to say. He could break a Jedi with their personal ghosts and shadows, insinuations and assumptions.

Malak knew only how to break the mind by breaking the body. He was a ham-handed butcher. He did not see the art, nor beauty in his master's handiwork, only weakness. Revan looked hungrily into the young Jedi's eyes. He could replace Malak with this young woman, train her… and she would come to him, willingly, to learn darker paths, in order to have more power with which to save the Republic. Just as he had done.

And then, the world went to hell.

((()))

Kyle looked up, as the ship shook, "What the hell was that?!" he shouted. Ricki shrugged, "Turbolaser?"

((()))

Bastila slowly swam back to the surface of consciousness. She hurt, and something was pinning her against the deck. Reluctantly, Bastila opened her eyes. A man was slumped over her. Weakly, Bastila pushed him off, and sat up, taking stock.

Several support beams had fallen in the bridge, and there was fire everywhere, as well as sparking consoles and power conduits. Bastila looked down at the man, and recognized the Dark Lord. Shards of durasteel had peppered him, like flechetes. One particularly large piece had pierced the left side of his head, through the hood.

Bastila smiled grimly. _Saved by a Dark Lord_. The Sentinel crawled to her feet. Her mission was complete, even if it had been accomplished in a most haphazard—

Bastila froze. She sensed that someone else still lived on the bridge. With growing apprehension, she traced the flicker back to the motionless Sith Lord.

_Normally I do not offer second chances to my enemies, Bastila, but you are… unique._

Bastila pondered. She could leave him here to die. He had killed millions with his war. The young Jedi crouched, and carefully felt for the edges of Revan's mask. She found the catches, and pulled the mask away, looking the man in the eye.

She had met Revan once, or rather, seen him, when he journeyed to the Jedi Temple, to beg their help in his quest to save the Republic from the Mandalorian atrocities. She had been only twelve at the time, and Revan had been freshly knighted, with the zeal of a man who knows what he must do to save that which he loves. She saw him, standing before the Jedi Council, alone before the dozen greatest masters of the Jedi Order.

He had been… magnificent in his certainty, his righteous fire. Bastila compared the man from her memories to the face before her, still strong and passionate, but haunted and… broken.

_No one is beyond redemption_. A voice reminded her, from her childhood.

The spark of life in the Dark lord was flickering, trying to escape his mangled body. Bastila exhaled, and cradled the man's face.

_Stay. _She gently, but firmly grabbed hold of that spark, and trapped it within the broken shell.

_And reap the consequences of your actions. _

((()))

"Is this the only way?" a hooded figure asked his colleagues. The other three members of the Council looked down at the body lying on the stone plinth, cradled by the arms of yet another hooded figure.

"She has kept him alive this long. What is another day?" a grizzled man suggested. He did not know why the dying man had been saved.  
"We still do not know how Revan was able to amass such a military force," a dark skinned man pointed out softly.

"If discover the secrets of Revan we must, then healing this man, unavoidable," the most diminutive Jedi present noted, deciding the fate of a life.

"Agreed, but the mind has been destroyed. What use is this shell to us?" the grizzled man argued.

"Broken yes, but destroyed… perhaps not." The small one observed.

"We must come to a decision soon, though, his body is beginning to fade without a strong mind to anchor it," the twi'lek noted.

"You are correct," the black skinned man agreed, feeling the flicker of life wriggling to escape.

((()))

They came to him, in one of his lucid moments. The painkillers had partially worn off. Kyle looked up from the medical bed he was dying in, and smiled, "Commander," he acknowledged gratingly, his voice almost imperceptible.

Commander Shan nodded to him briefly, "Sergeant Draven, we must ask you for one final service to the Republic you fight to protect."

Draven painfully smiled, a deaths-head grin, "Better ask quickly,"

"With your permission, we need you for one last mission. It will be painful, and possibly fatal. Do you agree?" Bastila asked quietly.

"I'll do whatever is… necessary… always— have," Kyle answered, the pain was startling to overwhelm him.


	2. Chapter 2: Ambush

The captain of the Endar Spire stood on his bridge, snapping out orders quickly, but with icy calm. He had a good crew, and a fine ship. A slip of a woman stood beside him in a tight fitting bodysuit. Slung across her back was a double bladed lightsaber, and her eyes were closed, as she whispered to herself.

He stood at the helm of a Hammerhead class frigate. Around him his officers frantically manned their stations, calling out status reports.

"Redirect power from engines to shields!" he snapped. A moment later an explosion rocked the ship, "Engines off-line, Captain!"

Captain Onasi frowned. Sith fighters flashed past the view ports of the bridge, mocking him.

"Turbolaser batteries three and four are down!" a panicked crewman reported. A moment later a blast hit close to the bridge, and the man's console exploded in his face. The captain checked for a pulse, but the man was clearly dead.

"Lieutenant Gree, status?" Captain Onasi demanded. The link whistled with interference from a close-range disruption grenade, and an unfamiliar voice answered, "This is Sergeant Draven, sir, Gree is dead." The sound of intense blaster fire leaked through the transmission, "Well, trooper, status report!" Onasi barked.

"We've lost the starboard air lock, and have fallen back to the flanking corridors. Heavy casualties. We can hold them for another five minutes, _maybe_ ten—," the commando responded grimly, "—Walters, dammit, seal that bulkhead!" the trooper roared at somebody nearby.

It was a grim picture. The Endar Spire's engines had been crippled, and they were floating towards the metropolitan planet of Taris, but they wouldn't be in range to launch escape pods for another twelve minutes. "Sergeant, I need you to hold the Sith back for fifteen minutes, can you do that?" Carth asked honestly. There was silence over the link. "Yes. Sir… but there won't be anyone left to use the pods," the commando answered bluntly.

((()))

Kyle Draven glared at the next Sith squad to try and overrun his position. He hosed them with blaster fire, and the crewmen on his line followed suit with their sidearms. The sith troopers were more heavily armed and armored. "Grenade out!" he cried, throwing a fragmentation grenade. The Endar Spire was crippled already. Explosive ordnance wouldn't do anything except possibly vent this section of the ship, which would kill the Sith too. Either way, he won. The silver armored figures tried to scatter, but their tight formation proved to be their downfall. The grenade went off, and a few troopers on the edges of the formation tried to get up, but Kyle mercilessly dropped them with precise shots to the head. In the brief moment of breathing space, he took stock. He still had nine shaky naval crewmen with him, out of the original thirty. Initial losses had been heavy at the airlock. The soldiers and marines had deadlocked the Sith for two minutes, before Sith shock troopers had overwhelmed them… leaving crewmen and officers the only thing between the Sith and the Endar Spire's bridge.

Judging by the chatter from the port airlock, they were having a harder time of it, they'd been pushed back four corridors already, only three away from the bridge. Kyle had lost two corridors. "Bridge, I need you to overload relay station J-37," Kyle said over his comlink, looking down the corridor. Another wave of Sith was surging forward.

"Acknowledged," a cool female voice replied. The relay junction over the heads of the Sith sparked, then exploded into an energy cascade that wracked the armored men, frying them in their armor. It also killed the lights and life support in their section of corridor… but it would take half an hour for the non-recycling air to become dangerous… Kyle doubted they would live long enough to worry about it.

"Stack those bodies with the rest!" Kyle barked, taking up a covering position at the corner. Eight of his crewmen scurried out, and started hauling the dead Sith over to the macabre barricade Kyle had forced them to construct. They'd stacked the bodies of the armored Sith like bricks into a crude breastworks, which was giving the unarmored crewmen an even chance against the superior experience and equipment of their Sith foes. The next wave surged forward, and Kyle gritted his teeth, "Back into position!" he yelled, firing around the corner to make the Sith hesitate. They did, which gave him time to sprint back and vault behind cover.

((()))

Carth wasn't happy. The Sith were advancing quickly down the port corridors of the ship, pushing the few republic defenders back. The starboard side had deadlocked though. Carth looked over at one of the Jedi on his bridge, "Port needs someone to hold the line," he said. He couldn't order her to go, but she nodded, lighting her blue lightsaber as she walked, "Yes, captain," casting a glance at the muttering woman standing next to Carth.

((()))

"Fierfiek!" Kyle grunted, ducking under a Sith trooper's vibro-sword, which hummed like an angry wasp inches from his head. He fired his trapped blaster rifle in the confined space, piercing the trooper's ankle. The man yelped, and Kyle introduced the butte of his rifle to the man's mirrored face visor, backpedaling. He fired several times, before the rifle went dead. Kyle glanced at it, knowing the power cell was empty. He hammered the release stud with his fist, and fished his last power cell out, quickly slamming the power pack into the port, and powering up his rifle. He had seventy-five shots left. Kyle glanced across the corridor, at the three crewmen still breathing. Their faces were pale, and they were shocky, but still pointing and firing the dangerous end of their blasters at anything shiny that moved. He glanced at the chrono on his vambrace. They'd held the line for nine minutes. He leaned out of cover, pulling a fallen blaster rifle to himself, and checked its charge… almost full. He passed it to one of the less shell-shocked crewmen, his name tag read Ens. Ulgo. Kyle smiled grimly, "Not exactly how you planned to spend the day, is it, ensign?" The younger man grinned weakly, "No, not really, sir,"

Kyle laughed, "My dayplanner was open, and the Sith took advantage of that for some R&R. _My_ R&R," Kyle joked. The ensign laughed dutifully. Republic commandos were some of the craziest marines still kicking. Veterans of over a dozen engagements, they were _insane_, but they always seemed to land boots-first.

"I think we might have to relocate in a minute. What say we leave some presents for the Sith bastards?" Kyle asked, idly juggling a couple fragmentary grenades.

Ens. Ulgo smiled, "I'd love to, sir."

((()))

Carth paced over to the helm, "Course?" he asked. Ens. Wrackers shrugged her shoulders, "Current drift, we'll be in range of the planet in four minutes."

"Bridge, this is Tanya, we're outside your door, the Sith have Force users with them," a breathless female voice said over the comlink. _Damn, and double damn._

"Sergeant Draven, you still kicking?" Carth asked.

"Yes sir, but I'm down to three men, is it time to jump ship?" the commando responded.

"Sorry, sergeant. I need you to fall back to the bridge, or else you're going to get hit from behind," Carth told him.

"Understood sir, we'll booby trap the corridors behind us as we go," the commando said.

((()))

"Come on, move it!" Kyle barked, rearguarding the three ensigns. He snapped off warning fire at the corridor's corner, where some of the braver Sith were peeking around. Then they reached the next corridor, and Kyle engaged the emergency bulkhead, fusing the locking mechanism. The Sith would be able to cut through the door in thirty seconds _if_ they were carrying proper breaching equipment, faster if they risked shaped explosives. The commando smiled when he felt the muted explosions of the jury-rigged grenades traveling through the deckplates, and up the soles of his boots. _Chew on that, you Sith bastards… _

Kyle turned around, and saw that the ensigns were clumped together at the next corridor, waiting for him, "Why aren't you at the bridge yet?" Kyle roared, "move it!"

The sounds of their boots slamming on the deck blended with the roar of Sith fighters strafing the hull, almost lazily now. Occasionally another explosion would rock the ship, but Kyle could tell the difference. The enemy pilots were bored now, simply trimming off unnecessary parts of the dying republic cruiser, their main purpose accomplished… destruction of the primary engines. Then Kyle heard something that chilled the blood in his veins… the distinctive crackle-hiss of lightsabers clashing against one another in rapid succession. He accelerated into a full sprint, overtaking the ensigns, so he was the first around the corner. Kyle recognized sub-commander Tanya battling frantically with a dark jedi in supple steel armor. He was bald, with a cruel sneer on his face, and dead eyes the color of urine. Kyle had faced a dark jedi only twice before. The first time, he'd nearly been filleted alive. The second time… he'd killed the arrogant Sithspawn.

Force users could sense dangers, or threats directed at them quite easily, even when distracted by say… a lightsaber duel. But danger from a chain reaction was harder to detect. If the chain reaction was several steps removed from the perpetrator, then the Force user didn't usually see it coming… not in the middle of combat, anyway. The problem was; Kyle didn't see anyway to recreate the circumstance under which he'd killed the other dark jedi several months ago. There was no conveniently heavy piece of equipment suspended by a cargo tether, with only a few pins holding it on.

Perhaps a deflection shot… Kyle smiled and aimed at the female Jedi. She sensed his intent (he hoped), and Kyle waved with his left hand briefly, letting her know where he was. He thought he caught a nod from her, and his finger tightened on the trigger.

Tanya deftly caught the bigger man's blade on her own, apparently weakening, as he forced her blade back towards her throat… until Kyle's ruby bolt slammed into her sapphire blade and rebounded into his sneering face. The man wasn't quite dead yet, but a quick slice and his head went rolling.

The sub-commander wiped the sweat off her brow, "Thank you, trooper. Next time, don't help," she rebuked tiredly.

"Where are the rest of the port defenders?" Kyle asked. Tanya pointed to the headless dark Jedi. "Dead," she said simply.

"Alright, captain said to get to the bridge," Draven told her. Tanya brought up the rear, and the soldiers led the retreat.

((()))

Carth looked up as the bridge bulkhead opened. Four republic soldiers burst in, with Tanya on their heels, blocking blaster fire with casual flicks of her blade.

The commando accompanying the naval crew staggered as a blaster round slipped past Tanya and slammed into his left calf. He grunted, and felt the injury, unimpressed.

"Captain, lock down the command functions. We need to head for the escape pods _now_," the mumbling Jedi said, breaking her meditation.

"You heard the commander!" Captain Onasi said, drawing his blaster pistol, which was _not_ a standard service arm. The handful of bridge crew quickly locked out their mostly useless control consoles, and then sabotaged the interfaces. The port bridge blast door suddenly sparked, and a red lightsaber tip intruded. Someone was cutting their way inside. "That's our cue!" Carth barked, and the survivors of the Endar Spire scurried out the starboard bulkhead, racing down the short corridor.

((()))

"Escape pods are online!" Ens. Wrackers called, standing back from the row of four-man escape pods. Captain Onasi locked down the bulkhead door, and fused the control panel. He glanced at his crew. Fourteen ensigns stared back, as well as a commando, and two Jedi. He'd lost over eighty percent of his crew. "Mount up. Spread out evenly, the Sith might take pot shots at the pods,"

"Malak wants me alive," Bastila pointed out confidently.

Carth smiled grimly, "The Sith _want_ to capture you alive, but if they think you're going to escape, the Sith _will_ kill you."

Just then a lightsaber pierced through the blast door, stabbing slightly into one of the ensigns, who'd been standing too close. She collapsed, clutching her ribs. It wasn't deep enough to be fatal, Carth guessed, in the brief moment he saw the wound while dragging her clear.

"Pods, now!" the captain snapped, hauling the moaning woman into his pod. Carth busied himself strapping her in. The commando was crouched nearby, rifle leveled at the door calmly. Bastila gracefully vaulted into a pod, joined by two ensigns. "Pod one, ready to launch," Bastila reported. Tanya stood next to the commando, her blade humming slightly. The dark Jedi was almost through the door. Two more ensigns crawled in with the captain, "Pod four, ready to launch," Carth said.

Kyle looked up at the sub-commander, "Ma'am, you are mission critical, get to a damned pod," he snapped, breaking chain of command.

"Get to the pod, sergeant. My path does not leave this ship," she said calmly, bringing her lightsaber up into a guard stance.

"Pod three, ready to launch!" an ensign reported worriedly.

The lightsaber finished its circle, and the man on the other side kicked the disk of metal in, where it fell to the deck with a reverberating clang. Kyle opened fire. The dark jedi stepped into view, wearing flexible black armor, and carrying a double bladed lightsaber. Kyle instantly hated the man's smug little goatee. It was impossible not to hate. The little thing was just so obnoxious. However, this Sithspawn knew his way around a lightsaber, as he contemptuously swatted Kyle's blaster fire aside, not even bothering to redirect it at him. Goatee-Sith swept the lightsaber at Kyle, who jerked backwards, evading disembowelment, but his blaster rifle was cut in half.

Tanya leapt forward, and her blade clashed against the man's spinning weapon. They fought up and down the narrow escape pod bay. Kyle was dimly aware of Captain Onasi issuing the order to launch pods. All but one did. Kyle cursed, and climbed into the empty pod.

((()))

"I feel your fear," the man purred, almost playful… like a nexu stalking a baby gizka. He broke through one of Tanya's blocks, leaving a burned trail along her thigh. It wasn't a crippling blow, but it hurt. She gasped in pain, and retreating, partially blocking the follow-up strike. The man spun her around, kicking the lightsaber from her hand, and stabbed her in the back, hitting one of her kidneys.

Tanya tried not to scream, but the pain was too much. She contorted, trying to escape the iron grip around her throat, and pull herself off the spike of agony she'd been impaled upon. Out of the corner of her eye, she felt the stricken presence of the commando, before he suddenly disappeared from her senses. She felt a moment of vindication… and peace before a lightsaber lopped off her head. Tanya faded into the Force, knowing that she had fulfilled her mission, and her duty.

((()))

Kyle dogged the hatch, hating himself, and clipped his harness, before he hit the release, and the pod doors snapped closed. Then the floor fell out from beneath his feet as the pod violently launched. The acceleration continued for thirty-two rapid heartbeats, before the braking thrusters began to fire… and moments later the surface of Taris rose up and slapped him out of the sky.


	3. Chapter 3: Quarantine

Carth coughed and hit the release on his harness. Ens. Grigs was already unbuckled, and trying to force the pod's hatch open. They'd landed partially on one side, so when it did open, it was only half a meter. The three survivors squeezed out of the pod, and stood. Several seconds later, another pod crashed down less than ninety meters away from them on the elevated walkway. "Get to the pod!" Carth said, still trying to cough the smoke out of his lungs. Ens. Dane Grigs wasn't injured, and sprinted for the pod. Judging from how hard it had hit, the braking thrusters had fired late. The big naval crewman ripped the mangled hatch open and crawled inside. Carth supported the whimpering woman beside him down the walkway. She clutched the shallow stab wound… it had likely damaged a rib or two… they arrived just as Grigs emerged, carrying a limp armored man in his arms.

They had to get out of sight before the Sith arrived to search for survivors. Carth spotted an elevator access nearby, and pointed his men towards it. The pedestrians were milling about in confusion. They didn't realize that the Republic had returned to their conquered world…

((()))

Trask groaned in the darkness. "Everyone okay?" someone whispered. An emergency glow-rod flared to life, illuminating the inside of the pod. Ens. Rann peered at his fellows. Technically, he was in command, since he had joined several months before the others. "Sound off," he whispered. Trask raised his hand, "Ulgo," he said.

The ensign on his left whispered, "Kand," and the final ensign coughed, "Kyja."

"Let's move. No telling how long before the Sith find us," Rann said, slipping off his harness and opening the hatch. He crawled out, soon joined by the others. His glow-rod didn't illuminate much in the darkness. Trask had no idea where they were... but there was dirt beneath his boots, "Uh, I think we're on the planet's surface," he said, "beneath the city."

Something moved in the shadows, hissing softly. Everyone drew their blasters. Sometimes, Trask hated his life.

((()))

"Keep moving!" Carth barked, peeking around the corner to shoot at the approaching Sith troopers… one of their squads had been quicker on the ball… but a nearby neutrino power plant was wreaking havoc on communications, jamming everyone's comlinks.

Carth cursed vehemently and fluently for several seconds, realizing they were trapped. The Sith squad was rapidly approaching down the access corridor, but if Carth's men tried to make a break down the enclosed metro-way, they would have no cover, and would be picked off by the hardened Sith soldiers… He spotted an access junction one hundred meters away, which might provide some cover… "Get to the junction, I'll cover you!" Carth spat, crouching in the meager cover provided by the corner. At full sprint it would take him about fifteen or twenty seconds to reach the junction box… an eternity in a firefight.

((()))

"What are these things?" Rann screamed, shooting another slobbering humanoid, dropping it only a few feet from his boots. It almost looked human. Trask didn't know, and it didn't matter. He shot another one, right in the mouth, blowing out the back of its head. Pain flared in his leg, and Trask stabbed his knife into the throat of a monster that had bit his leg. The thick leather boot had partially stopped the teeth, but not completely.

More eyes glittered in the shadows cast by the glow-rod. Trask knelt, and checked Kyja for a pulse, knowing he wouldn't find one. The man's neck had been broken.

Trask holstered his blaster and picked up the fallen man's sidearm. It still had 18 shots remaining. Kand had been the first killed, a dark shadow jumping from behind a pile of refuse had torn the young man's throat out.

More monsters appeared, as if drawn to the light… but they couldn't turn it off, or else they would be killed in the darkness…

Trask glared and fired his blaster grimly.

((()))

The crossfire was sudden and vicious. Three swoop bikes roared down the enclosed metro-way. Each vehicle had a gunman riding pillion, carrying a variety of blaster pistols, laying into the tight formation of advancing Sith soldiers from behind. Judging by how easily some of the Sith were dying, armor not withstanding, those blasters were probably _illegal_. _Very _illegal.

One of the bikes peeled off and landed near the huddled Republic men as the smoke cleared. Carth watched the approaching swoop biker carefully. The rider pulled off her helmet, tossing shoulder length auburn hair behind her ears in a gesture of habit; for utility instead of vanity. She eyed the blaster pointed at her calmly.

"You from that Republic ship?" she asked bluntly. Carth and his men were still in uniform, so it wasn't really a question… more of an observation.

"Is that a problem?" Carth asked sharply.

The woman smirked, "Then on behalf of the Resistance, I welcome you to Taris. Need a lift?"

The woman's name turned out to be Kaeira, a member of the Hidden Beks. A battered airspeeder edged out of the traffic lane, and landed beside them, piloted by a grim looking Aqualish thug. There was enough room, barely, for the four Republic fugitives to squeeze inside… but Carth had serious doubts about the vehicle ever lifting off again.

((()))

Trask limped along, the glow rod shoved through his belt. The blasters were dead, drained. Rann had been dragged down, screaming, several minutes ago. The screams had cut off after a few seconds though… and only Trask remained. He carried two survival knives, one in each hand. He was tired, and his wounds were beginning to throb, signaling an infection. Trask wiped blood away from his silver eyes angrily. After he'd killed the biggest of the monsters, the rest had kept their distance, wary of his knives. They were waiting for him to weaken and fall. Then they would feed.

Trask screamed defiantly in his mother's tongue: [_I am Trask of Clan Ulgo, child of Mandalore. Face me.]_

The slavering demons watched him inscrutably in the dim light of the phosphorescent lichen, then one stepped forward… and the rest followed. Trask's blood pounded, and gore dripped from his knives. His father had been Echani, his mother a soldier of Mandalore… but he had been raised by his mother after the death of his father, by his mother's knife, shortly _after _Trask had been conceived. Trask's oath belonged to the Republic, his soul belonged to the _manda_, and his blood… his blood beat to the song of the Echani… and the Echani live, breath, and speak battle. This was just another dance. No matter how Trask hated his father's cowardice… he could not hate his father's gifts to him.

Trask felt distant, as he was born to the ground, but his body did not need him to operate. It moved almost on its own, in movements as old as time, spilling hot blood from countless foes. His vision grew hazy, and blurred, but he kept fighting… until he slipped into darkness.

((()))

Malya, of the Outcasts had not seen an up-worlder fight as the pale one had. His uniform was the color of blood, but his skin and hair were palest white. He had faced an entire Rakghoul pack, and even killed its pack leader. He fought with knives, and moved like water. She had never seen one to accomplish such a feat, and live. He was like a ghost given solid form. He was beautiful. But in the Undercity, beauty rarely lasted longer than the space between heart beats… and the ghost was dragged down.

The outcast woman, and the four others with her, wore a ragged assemblage of hand crafted armor, scavenged cloth, and tribal masks. Each carried a two-meter spear made from metal tubing and a sharpened shard of metal. Short clubs hung from their belts, as well as short daggers. Each carried a forage bag on their back.

"It is your decision, Malya," Tobis said, undecided. Malya had originally intended to take the stranger's superior weapons, and any other tools from the surface he had… but that was before she saw that the ghost did not die, that it still drew breath, despite the injuries.

Malya considered the ramifications of bringing another mouth to feed back to their camp… and he was unnatural… but perhaps this was an omen, and not a demon. Rukil would know. No one was wiser or fairer than the wizened old man…

"We will take the up-worlder to Rukil," Malya decided.

The others nodded, and the biggest, Roth, picked up the man and slipped him over one broad shoulder. The Rakghouls would return, soon, drawn to the smell of blood.

((()))

"See to your people, captain. Our conversation can wait," the man known as Gadon Thek said. Carth nodded, and followed Ens. Grigs through the multi-level repurposed warehouse.

Ensign Daniele Wrackers submitted to medical treatment from a stern looking Twi'lek matron, who brushed aside any and all excuses. Her rough mannerisms were further underscored by not speaking a single word of Basic… but she quickly filled Daniele's cauterized puncture wound with kolto, and slapped a Synthflesh bandage over it. Next, she pulled the unconscious commando's helmet off, and examined him. Aside from a large lump on the forehead, there was nothing wrong with the man, and the Twi'lek woman shrugged.

The republic soldiers gratefully sank down on the cots to sleep… but Carth took first watch, blaster close to hand. The difference between a rebel and a thug was negligible in Carth's book.

((()))

The band of Outcast foragers reached their camp before nightfall… not that the coming of night had much significance to them. Almost no light made its way to the surface of Taris. The only way to tell, was the gloom was slightly less when the sun shown overhead… not that Malya knew what a sun was, or looked like. She'd heard it described to her before though, by some of the up-worlders that were banished to the Under City.

The camp was a fortress, of sorts, built from bits of permocrete rubble, mortared into a stone wall nine meters tall and two meters wide at the base. It was built around an elevator to the upper world, which the up-worlders used to banish their criminals through, but no more. The village had a single rusted gate of thick metal, which was raised by chains and pulleys, but locked by a long bar that fit through heavy brackets.

Luminous lichen grew inside the walls, providing illumination for the Outcasts to see by.

Malya stopped before the tribe Elder, Rukil, who was sitting next to the cooking fire, warming his bony hands. His eyes were still clear though, even if his body was slow.

"My apprentice, whom do you bring before me?" he asked tiredly.

Malya bowed, "We bring an up-worlder, wise one. His flesh crawls with the Rakghoul's disease, but his body does not submit to the taint. Before he fell, he took an entire pack of Rakghouls to the Final Dark, with nothing but his knives and feet."

Rukil creakily stood, and limped over to the motionless body. His liver-spotted hands gently ran across the young man's face, and clothing. Beneath his touch, the young man stirred, weakly.

Rukil frowned, he had never seen such a man. He was pale skinned, but his hair was white as polished bone, despite his youth… and he had defeated Rakghouls with little more than knives…

"Is this the time of Destiny, then? Is this a portent of the salvation of my people? Or merely another false sign to mislead us from the path?" Rukil wondered out loud.

Rukil contemplated the stranger. Either way, if he recovered, he would make a valuable addition to the tribe. "Take him to Esala for healing," Rukil decided.

"Yes, wise one," Malya replied.

((()))

"Gadon sent me to check on you. Do you need anything?" a young twi'lek girl asked brightly, peeking into the converted storage room. Daniele looked up from her holozine. The ensign noted the leather weapon harness, partially hidden by the teenager's gray vest… specifically the short vibro-blade in an inverted sheath.

"Nothing really at the moment," Daniele said, looking back at the article she was reading. It was roughly three months out of date, and exceedingly boring. Understandable, since the celebrities within it were native to Taris, and unknown to her.

"What's wrong with him?" the twi'lek asked, and Daniele realized she was still in the room. The ensign looked up at the teen, who was peering intently at Sergeant Draven.

"His pod's thrusters fired late, and he crashed into a walk-way," Daniele replied absently.

"Wow, so, how fast do you think he was going?" the girl asked with morbid curiosity.

"Fast enough to put him in a coma," Daniele replied tightly.

"Oh, I forgot, I'm Mission, Mission Vao," the girl said cheerfully, shaking hands with Daniele, who simply nodded. The girl was getting on her nerves…

"Mission! What did Gadon tell you about the visitors?" an annoyed woman demanded.

Mission jumped guiltily, "But I'm not lurking, Dia!" she protested.

A woman, presumably Dia, with a dancer's curves and grace stalked into the room, "Go on, I'm sure Larrim has something for you to do," she scowled, a particularly ugly expression on such beautiful features. The teen slumped out the door, kicking the deck with her boot heels, making a surly racket.

"I'm sorry," Dia apologized sincerely, "Mission was explicitly told not to bother your group." The woman turned to leave, but Daniele, desperate for someone she could _talk_ to, asked, "Are you busy?"

The woman was thrown for a moment, "Not at the moment," she replied cautiously.

"I've been sitting here for the last five hours, reading a magazine dull enough to put _me_ in a coma. Could we talk for a bit?"

Dia smiled, "Well, when you put it that way…"

_And gain intel… _Daniele thought.

"So, _why is_ a swoop gang fighting to restore law and order?" Daniele asked, curious. Dia tensed slightly, "A foreign army invades our home, declares martial law, and locks down all travel to and from the planet… why would we object to that?" Dia asked fiercely.

Daniele held her hands up in submission, "I'm sorry, it's just, when I hear the words _swoop gang_, I don't really get a big upwelling of patriotic fervor... stereotypical, I know."

Dia relaxed, mollified, "Don't worry about it," she replied softly.

"How bad is it?" Daniele asked. For a few seconds, it looked like Dia wasn't going to answer… but then Dia shrugged, "The Sith don't take us seriously. We're just thugs, picking off their stragglers. An irritation. So far, the Sith have mostly ignored us, and _now_ our strength is wasted fighting a pointless gang war with the Black Vulkars. Gadon tried to explain that to Brejik, but he won't listen…"

"Why is Brejik at war with Gadon?" Daniele asked, curious. _And who is Brejik?_

Dia leaned forward, and Daniele's female intuition sensed some juicy gossip approaching: "Gadon treated Brejik like his adopted son. About six months ago, Gadon's swoop was shot down in a skirmish with the Sith, and he lost his eyes in the crash. Everyone assumed Gadon would step down as leader of the Hidden Beks and let Brejik take over…

_ But he didn't_. Gadon can't see as well as he used to, but the implants let him see well enough to keep leading us. Gadon didn't think Brejik was ready to assume the mantle yet… something Brejik didn't agree with. He stormed out, taking most of the younger hot-heads with him, to join the Black Vulkars, our rivals. Less than two months later, Brejik was running the Vulkars."

Daniele was also leaning forward, "But why start a gang war with the Beks?"

Dia shrugged bitterly, "Pride. Gadon's decision was a public humiliation for him… if Gadon had stepped down this war might have been avoided…"

"Yeah _right,_" a young voice argued, "Brejik wants to control the Lower City gangs. If Gadon _had_ stepped down, Brejik'd have led us against the Vulkars. Brejik _wanted_ this war, one way, or another!"

Dia glared at the intruder, "Mission! Didn't I tell you to help Larrim?" she demanded.

"I did!" Mission shot back sassily.

"Well, go pester Largo, then," Dia snapped. The teenager stormed off, muttering _very_ dark promises and dragging a large storm cloud of indignation behind her.

"How did you join the Beks?" Daniele asked. Dia smiled mirthlessly, "I used to be a waitress in Javyar's Cantina… then I cut a drunk Huttslug named Holdan for feeling me up. I used the bastard's own vibro-blade too. Took it right off his belt. I still have it," Dia smiled bitterly, showing Daniele the vibro-blade on the back of her belt.

"Turns out though, Holdan was a member of the Exchange… one of Davik Kang's men. He put a death mark on my head… so I joined the Beks. It's a small bounty, only six hundred credits, not worth angering the Beks over."

Daniele had heard of the Exchange. It was a criminal cartel that spanned hundreds of planets.

((()))

Trask woke up slowly. His head throbbed, and he groaned, sitting up. He was in a tent of some kind. At his movement, a voice spoke beside him, "How do you feel, up-worlder?"

"What?" Trask asked, seeing a dark skinned woman sitting nearby.

"Who are you?" he demanded, wondering where his clothes were, since he was naked beneath the ragged blanket.

"I am Esala, healer of this tribe. You were infected by the Rakghouls, but your body did not yield to their taint," the woman responded.

"Where am I?" Trask demanded, "and where are my clothes?"

Esala smiled indulgently at him, "You are in the Under city… and your clothes were badly shredded by the Rakghouls' claws."

((()))

Carth sat down at the table across from the powerfully built dark skinned man. A bitter faced Twi'lek woman stood behind him, her piercing eyes watching Carth's every move. She had the eyes of a killer… and the man's eyes had been lost at some point, replaced by artificial implants. The man smiled slightly, "My name is Gadon Thek. I hope my men didn't give you too much of a scare yesterday, captain…?"

Carth didn't give his name. He didn't trust this man. Hell, he didn't trust anyone… and sometimes, he even had to give his reflection a once over.

"What do you want from me?" Carth asked bluntly. He was a soldier, not a diplomat.

Gadon smiled thinly, "For the last year I have been waging a shadow war against the Sith occupation forces. They have better training, weapons, armor, soldiers… all we have is surprise and stubbornness at our disposal… but lately, that hasn't been enough."

Carth raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently.

When Gadon realized Carth wasn't going to ask why, he resumed speaking, "If we want to survive, we need to start thinking bigger than skirmishes. We need a strategy, a reason for fighting, an ultimate goal… I need your help, captain. I'm a simple man. I know how to lead my men in small scale engagements, from the Mandalorian Wars… but I took my orders from the Tarisian Resistance back then… I need someone with a better grasp of organizing the skirmishes into a big picture," Gadon trailed off unhappily.

Carth mulled over this for a moment. The converted warehouse they were in spoke volumes about the Hidden Beks and their operation. They were on the edge, scrambling to survive with scavenged equipment and weapons… but they were determined, and too stubborn to give up, like any sane being would…

Carth looked up at Gadon, "Alright. I'll help… but I have a mission of my own to complete," he warned.

Gadon's face broke into an honest smile, "I understand completely, captain."

Carth nodded back grimly, "I need information on any other escape pods from the Endar Spire," the captain said calmly. Gadon frowned grimly, pushing a datapad to the captain, having clearly anticipated the request.

"The Vulkars stripped those pods clean within hours after they landed. It's too bad we didn't get there first, considering what my spies reported the Vulkars found…

A female Republic officer survived the crash. I don't condone intergalactic slavery, but the Vulkars aren't so picky… and _they_ took her captive."

Carth felt a surge of optimism. Bastila was the only woman, aside from Ens. Wrackers, to make it to the escape pods. The officer _had_ to be Bastila… and if the Vulkars thought she was just an officer… she might have already escaped on her own.

"That officer's rescue is my highest priority. She is vital to our war effort against the Sith," Carth told the gang-leader, who was clearly troubled by the news. He tapped his chin in thought, "Normally… the Vulkars sell their captives to Davik or an off-world slaver. But a Republic officer is no ordinary catch… much too valuable to leave with the Vulkar scum at their base… Brejik's probably got her hidden away somewhere safe until the big swoop race. We'll never find her," Gadon said sadly.

"You mentioned a base. _Could_ she be there?" Carth asked tightly. Gadon shrugged, "It's possible, but I know Brejik. He'll keep her somewhere he feels is safe. He'll be worried about the Sith taking an interest and trying to snatch his shiny prize away from him."

Carth backtracked, "You mentioned a swoop race. How does that factor in?"

Gadon pursed his lips, "Three hours ago, I received word that Brejik is offering the officer up as the Vulkar's share of the prize in the annual swoop gang race. She's become a pawn in Brejik's game to take over the Lower City."

Carth frowned, "Why would Brejik risk losing his captive over a simple race?"

Gadon shifted in his uncomfortable chair, "By putting up such a valuable prize, Brejik hopes to win the loyalty of some of the smaller gangs," Gadon explained, "With their numbers bolstering his own, he could finally destroy me and my followers."

Carth sighed, "Do you have any ideas for rescuing the officer? We can't fight all the gangs," Carth pointed out. He wished this problem could be solved with a big ship and a bigger gun… but that would be too easy. There _had_ to be subtlety…

Gadon considered it for a moment, his eyes hardening, "If this officer is as important as you claim… our only hope to rescue her is to somehow win the race… but that's impossible now," the older man growled bitterly.

"_Nothing_ is impossible, only improbable," Carth argued, becoming irritated with the gang leader's persistently pessimistic attitude.

Gadon shrugged, "Several weeks ago, my spies learned that the Vulkars developed a prototype accelerator for a swoop engine. A bike with the accelerator installed can beat any other swoop out there! It'll guarantee a victory for them in this year's swoop race."

"Where is this prototype?" Carth asked.

"My spies are reasonably sure it's somewhere in the Vulkar base…" Gadon answered.

"Why can't we steal it?" Carth asked.

Gadon shook his head, "I don't have the manpower to assault the Vulkar base. The entrance is too defensible. My men would be cut down… I won't send them to their deaths."

"What about the back way in?" a young voice asked.

"Mission! What did I tell you about lurking?" the bitter faced twi'lek woman snarled.

The teenage twi'lek, apparently "Mission," ignored the older woman, locking gazes with Gadon, "There's a way into the Vulkar base from the undercity, through the abandoned sewer system."

"Why didn't you mention this before?" the bitter woman demanded. Mission shrugged, "No one ever asked." She didn't say it, but Carth saw the unspoken _duh_ on the tip of Mission's tongue, before she remembered who she was talking to.

((()))

Trask pulled on the ill-fitting garment, and went looking for answers. He wandered through the tangled sprawl of tents and hovels, looking for an "old man." Raggedly dressed men and women whispered to each other as he passed, openly staring.

One of the Outcasts, a girl, perhaps twelve years old, bounced up to him, and followed beside him, "My name is Shaleena… you're from the up-world, aren't you? I've never seen it. I was born in the Undercity. Is it as nice as they say up there?" she asked, her eyes big, talking quickly.

Trask smiled at her, "I don't know. I'm new to this planet," he confessed.

"Oh… well, what does your home look like?" she asked, curious.

Trask thought of home, "We live in great cities on frozen plains… there is snow everywhere, and we have to wear snow goggles to keep from being blinded, because it is so bright."

"What is _snow?_" Shaleena asked, curious. Trask frowned, thinking, how to describe snow… "It is like… droplets of water, but hard, like small chips of plastic, and cold, very, very cold," he tried. He saw the young girl struggle to wrap her mind around such a thing.

"What else?" she begged, and Trask told her of places he had been, and things he had done as he grew up. He couldn't help it, the child… this child, born in a squalid dump amid horrendous nightmares… he'd never seen another child possess so much awe, or wonder.

"I've never been to the surface, but sometimes, I think I can see it in my dreams. The sun, the sky, the stars… it all sounds so… so… wonderful," Shaleena said longingly.

One of the women came over and shooed Shaleena off, scolding her. Apparently she was neglecting her chores. "Bye!" the girl called brightly as she left. Trask waved goodbye and continued his search.

Trask found an elderly man eating some kind of porridge with his hands. Trask sat down across from him, cross-legged. The old man paused, and looked up at him.

"Long have I watched you sleep, strange one. I have asked myself many questions, but have answers to none. Are you the herald of prophecy? The beacon to guide us through the darkness? Or are you merely another harbinger of shattered dreams and unfulfilled promises?" the old man mused.

Trask shifted uncomfortably, "I don't know what you are talking about," he began, "But I must return to the surface, there is a war, and I must return to it," he said urgently.

The man's eyes twinkled, "Yes, yes, a warrior from the world above, but for good, or evil?"

"My ship was destroyed, and my pod fell here," Trask interrupted.

The man cocked his head, "A warrior from the stars?" Trask did not hear the rest the old man said as he muttered into his dirty beard.

"I must apologize for Rukil. Sometimes he travels to places only within his mind," a deep resonant voice said. Trask looked behind him, and saw a powerfully built dark-skinned man. He carried a sword at his hip in a scavenged sheath. This must be the leader, Trask decided.

The young man stood, and offered his hand. They shook, briefly, "Are you the leader?" Trask asked.

"I lead the tribe in most matters, yes," the man said, "My name is Gendar."

"Trask Ulgo," the ensign responded, "I need your help."

"I will do what I can, but my aid_ is_ limited," Gendar said sadly.

"I am a soldier, fighting in a war among the stars. I must return to my comrades," Trask explained earnestly. Gendar shook his head sadly, "There is no escape from this place, soldier. The elevators are controlled from above, and the walls of the towers are too sheer and too high to climb. Many have tried, and many have died. None succeeded."

((()))

Daniele stripped the commando out of his plastoid armor, setting it in a tidy pile out of sight. She was wearing one of Dia's outfits… but the naval ensign wasn't as… developed… as the cantina dancer, making her tunic rather loose in places, which was a little embarrassing. She left the sergeant in his black body glove. His brow was feverish, and there was a rather large bump on his head, as wide as three of her fingers. It looked painful as hell. He mumbled and tossed in his sleep. She didn't even notice when Dia sat down beside her, "Fierfeik!" the ensign yelped, jumping a little. Dia smiled at her, "Sorry," she said, clearly not. The smugness gave it away.

"Did you need something?" Daniele asked, waiting for her heart to stop pounding.

Dia pointed her chin at the man on the cot. A puckered scar across his right eye was standing out in sharp relief, a reminder of a blaster graze that nearly cost the man an eye, "What do you think he's dreaming of?" Dia asked speculatively.

Daniele shrugged, "Couldn't tell you. Didn't really interact with him much on the ship. He was a late addition to the crew roster, some commando with six years of experience, scuttlebutt from the lower decks paint him as a hardcase though. He's never failed a mission… but talk is cheap with such a small crew," Daniele explained.

Dia thought the man looked… broken, almost.

((()))

Later that day, Carth came into the small storage room and sat down, digging into a rehydrated ration pack hungrily, gulping down the tasteless nutrients. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the commando slowly sit up, holding his head.

"Good to see you up, instead of thrashing around in your sleep," Carth mumbled around a mouthful of noodles. Daniele nodded from where she sat on a nearby storage pallet.

The sergeant looked thrown for a moment, since everyone was wearing civilian clothing, "You must have been having one hell of a nightmare," Carth finished.

"We were wondering if you were ever going to wake up," Daniele said.

"Where are we? How did we get here?" Draven asked, carefully dropping his feet to the floor, as if testing for triplines with his toes.

"Well, you've been slipping in and out of consciousness for a couple of days now, so I imagine you're pretty confused about things. We're safe… for the moment," Carth answered.

The curtain over the storage room's entrance twitched aside, and a big man Kyle recognized by face, if not by name, ducked inside before closing it. He was carrying a large crate of foodstuffs.

Kyle, spurred on by the prospect of food, rose, limping over to the impromptu table. He sat down carefully, mindful of the kolto wrap someone had placed around his calf, to treat the blaster wound.

"We're in a warehouse on the planet of Taris. You were banged up pretty bad when your escape pod crashed, but luckily, the rest of us weren't seriously hurt," Carth continued. The starving soldier dug into the bland food with a vicious intensity that only truly hungry individuals possess. Carth hid a smile behind his hand.

"We were able to carry you away from our crash site in all the confusion, and stumbled into the loving arms of the native Resistance," the giant said with a trace of humor.

"Are we going to wait here for Republic rescue, or wage insurgency and guerilla warfare?" Draven asked.

Carth sighed, sliding a datapad over to the commando, who peered intently at it as he ate. It was an initial status report someone had compiled. Kyle read aloud some of it:

"Taris under Sith control… fleet is orbiting planet… martial law… and _recently_ imposed a planet-wide quarantine. Hmm… I've been in worse spots," the commando finally decided, tabbing to the next screen to continue reading.

Carth leaned back, "I saw on your service records that you understand a remarkable number of alien languages."

The commando nodded, "I can't speak most of them, but I can understand the gist of what they're saying…"

"There's no possibility of reinforcements, and we _must_ find Bastila. She is the key to the Republic war effort," Carth growled softly.

"Any leads on where we should start looking for Bastila?" Draven asked.

Carth nodded grimly, "Our Resistance allies found out that she was captured by a rival swoop gang, and we're putting together a team to infiltrate their base."

((()))

Kyle studied the schematics for the building complex that the "Black Vulkars" were operating out of. It had once served as a repair shop, mainly for smaller repulsorlift vehicles… it was abandoned during the Mandalorian wars when Taris was sacked… and the Vulkars took it over. The problem was it had once been a military installation. The main entrance funneled attackers onto a narrow approach, which was covered by two anti-personnel blaster turrets in the walls… it would be suicide to attack the front door, especially since the door and walls were made of blast resistant permacrete and durasteel, nearly four meters thick.

A "back entrance" would make things much simpler. According to Mission, the Vulkars and filled in all of the other approaches and sewer lines with duracrete, but they'd missed one of the abandoned sewer lines… or at least, they had two months ago, when Mission discovered it. It might have been filled in during the interim, but they wouldn't know until they laid eyes on it. Kyle checked the route again through the Undercity, provided by Mission, then returned to examining the Vulkar base, familiarizing himself with the layout. Then he went looking for the garage.

((()))

Kyle painted his armor with an urban camouflage pattern, mostly splotches of grey, with some black and white bits thrown in too. It looked ugly and haphazard, which was the entire point. The mechanics who had loaned him the pressurized spray applicator had chuckled when he told them why. After hearing about the Rakghoul infection, there was _no way_ he was going down there without his armor. Besides, his helmet had a low-light vision filter.

((()))

The team quickly climbed out of the hover cab. They were close to their objective… Kyle took point, his helmet safely secured in his back pack, wearing a long sleeved hooded robe to conceal his republic issue body armor, from casual detection, anyway.

Carth followed the commando through the dark streets. Both soldiers were packing a variety of knives and blasters. As they passed a cantina, three men staggered out, running into Carth. One of them tripped, but Kyle caught him by the collar, preventing a nasty half kilometer spill off the edge of the walkway. Kyle pulled the young man back up onto his feet, where he swayed, heavily, "What's thish planet coming to, huh? Shlummies walkin' around the Lower City!" the man complained, his glassy eyes barely focused. The second man on the left spoke up, indignantly, and just as hammered as the first, "Shouldn't you go back to the Undercity, where you belong, shlummie?" he asked, looking ready to fall down with a stiff breeze.

"Oh, this is rich," Mission whispered to Kyle sarcastically.

The final man elbowed between his two friends, and almost sent them all tumbling down,

"Yeah, like he said, these shtreets are for the… You better… get out of our way… if you know… what's good for you!"

Kyle exchanged a look with Carth, then he smiled at the men, "Hey, guys, we can all be friends here. Let me buy you a drink," Kyle said cheerfully.  
The aggressive one tried to process this for a moment, before he smiled too, stupidly, "A drink? Hey – for a shlummie you ain't so bad! Come on boys – this shlummie's buying the next round!"

The most sober of the three shook his head slowly, "No way, forget it! No more drinksh! We're late already!"

The aggressive one slowly nodded his head sadly, "Uh… yeah…. Maybe next time, shlummie. Come on… let's go…"

Kyle watched the three shapes stagger down the street, and shook his head, "Six creds that they get mugged five minutes from now," he said.

Carth shook her head, "No bet, sergeant."

"Pity."

((()))

Their short trek was interrupted again, less than three minutes later. Kyle spotted two punks, a Twi'lek and a Nikto, Black Vulkars judging by their gang colors, up ahead. Kyle motioned for the others to halt, while he investigated. The commando slipped forward, keeping to the shadows. They seemed to be waiting for someone. As Kyle came closer, he saw a third figure approach the punks. The man was wearing a light combat vest, which was inexpensive, but still practical armor. It covered the torso, and would weaken hits from melee and energy based weapons. It wouldn't stop them… but the wearer might be able to crawl away, instead of dying. The newcomer was armed with a holstered blaster, but made no move towards it as he approached the obviously hostile Nikto.

"You guys are behind with your payments. What? Do you think just because you're in some gang you don't have to give Davik his cut?" the man demanded, annoyed.

The punk on the left raised his horny chin defiantly, and spoke in heavily accented Basic, "I don't see Davik doing anything for his share. We do all the work. Davik claims he's part of the Exchange, so let's see him prove it."

The Twi'lek fondled a knife shoved through his belt, "Yeah, let's see the big crime lord come and get his money from the Black Vulkars!"

The man was unimpressed by the display. He shrugged, "So you want to play this the hard way? _Ok_." A _fourth_ man stepped out of the shadows... and Kyle went cold. Flashbacks from the mandalorian wars hit him hard. A big man in mandalorian armor approached, carrying a heavy repeating blaster like it was a toy. That weapon could take down lightly armored airspeeders… or shred infantrymen. His armor was painted in desert hues; tans, browns, and grays.

The Nikto punk looked ready to wet himself, staring into that reflective, emotionless black T-visor, "Oh, hey… Canderous. We didn't know you was working for Davik now."

The twi'lek nodded vigorously, "Yeah, we were just goofin' around here. We don't want no trouble with a Mandie. Here's Davik's cut!" the alien all but threw the bundle of credits to the human, who smirked, "I knew you boys would see reason. Now get out of here."

The mandalorian watched them go. "Too bad," he sighed, "I was looking forward to cracking some heads."

"Maybe next time," the smaller man promised distractedly, busy counting the credits in the bag. The mandalorian shook his head,

"Those Vulkars are dumber than Coruscant granite slugs. They actually _think_ being in that pathetic little gang of theirs makes them important! Gadon keeps his Hidden Beks in line, but Brejik's getting delusions of grandeur. If Davik's smart, he'll slap that young punk back down."

The enforcer nodded, "Yeah, listen, I'd better get this over to Davik. I'll call you if anyone else gets behind on their payments," the smaller man promised, and the pair began walking away. Kyle overheard the mandalorian say to the enforcer:

"I don't have time to stick around here anyway. Davik's got me working on some _big_ special assignment," he sarcastically complained, clearly disdainful.

Kyle snuck back to the others, "Okay. We're clear," he said. Carth nodded, and the team continued.

((()))

The up-worlder spun the survival knives in his hands idly, staring off at nothing. Shaleena sat nearby, trying to patch a ragged shirt with some scrap fabric.

"Do you think I'll ever see the surface?" Shaleena asked.

"Anything is possible," Trask told her automatically.

"Gendar says I should spend more time trying to improve things down here, and less time dreaming about something I can never have. Maybe he's right," Shaleena argued wistfully. Trask snorted, "Without dreams, we would never strive to become more than we are. We are nothing without our dreams," he told her sternly, "They're the only thing no one can ever take away from you, unless you let them."

Malya considered his words, and their effect on her little sister.

((()))

Carth peered at the door skeptically. "You're sure this is an elevator shaft, and not a garbage chute?" He asked. If it was an elevator, than it was the tiniest pretender ever. Closer to a dumbwaiter, or an ancient diving bell. Kyle shrugged, and slipped his helmet on, "Look away, everyone," he said, pulling out a fusion arc cutter. He slowly began cutting along the weld lines of the door, throwing harsh shadows from the intense light bleeding off from the cutter.

Zaalbar casually held his bowcaster, watching from the alley mouth, to see if anyone was coming. The two rodians were quietly talked to each other, waiting patiently, although they did keep their distance from the wookiee sentry.

"So, what do you think about Dia?" Carth asked, watching for curious Sith patrols. "Why?" Kyle asked suspiciously.

"_Well_… she seems to be giving you a lot of… attention… lately," the captain hedged suggestively.

"What's your point, sir?" Kyle asked coolly, starting on the next weld.

"She's displayed interest in a rather reclusive individual with poor social skills and bad table manners," Carth hinted. Kyle paused, and turned off the cutter, looking at his captain, "Are you telling me a _dancer_, who serves drinks in a sleazy bar, _while_ scantily clad, is _shy?_"

Carth shrugged, "_former _dancer." Carth couldn't see Kyle's expression behind the helmet, but after another second of staring, Kyle resumed cutting. "Just keep your eyes open, Kyle," Carth recommended. The commando finished cutting the welds, thinking in silence; he couldn't give Dia what she wanted.

Kyle slipped into his climbing harness, tightening the straps. In awkward silence, Kyle leaned into the shaft, and secured a magnetic auto-winch to the shaft's ceiling. He clipped the lead to his harness, and began his descent first. He had a glow-rod in his hand as the line from the portable winch spooled out. The walls were _extremely _close. According to his datapad mapper, the square shaft was only 1.5 meters wide. He wasn't the only thing in the shaft though. Small eyes shone at him from Taris' native vermin, most of them resembled a cross between a mouse and a cockroach. He reached the bottom of the shaft, and began cutting the welds on the door from the inside.

"Hey, Carth…" Mission said slowly. She hated sitting still… and judging by the unfamiliar language coming from Kyle's helmet, the welds at the bottom would take a lot longer to breach… "What's _your _story?" Mission asked.

Carth frowned at her for a moment, then shrugged,

"Well, I've been a fighter-pilot for the Republic for… oh, more years than I'd like to admit… and I've seen more than my share of wars…" Carth chuckled.

"How come you're a captain?" Mission asked.

"Well, before this started, I fought in the Mandalorian wars. During one mission, my squadron was separated from our ship, an aging cruiser, the _Arres._

We went to ground on the planet, and discovered a Mandalorian repair yard… as well as a P.O.W. camp…" Carth said.

"What did you do?" Mission asked, curious.

"We did something stupid," Carth sighed, "We were supposed to wait seventy-two hours, and try to meet up with the _Arres_ behind one of the planet's moons… but instead, we staged a prison break, and hijacked one of the capital ships, a _Foray_-class corvette."

"But why are you a ship-captain, and not a fighter pilot?" Mission repeated.

"Because I seized a ship the enemy had stolen, and rescued almost four hundred captured Republic personnel. They offered me command of the ship… and I accepted," Carth said quietly.

((()))

There was a commotion at the gate, someone was yelling.

Malya jogged over, worried.

"Hurry Hendar!" a young teenager, Hester, screamed, clinging to the gate. She turned to the gate guard, Trewin, "Open the gate! Hurry!" she begged. The grizzled man grimaced, "I can't, the Rakghouls are too close!" Indeed, Malya could see Hendar's distant form, discernable against the lichen, limping quickly towards the village. Behind him, Rakghouls playfully chased him. They could kill him at anytime, but they were letting him run, simply to chase.

"The mutants will kill him if you don't open the gate!" Hestar screamed.

"And if I open the gate, they'll kill us all!" Trewin roared back.

Amid the shouting, no one except Malya noticed an outcast climbing the wall. His hair was white as bone, then he slipped up and over the spikes at the top, landing outside the wall, in front of the gate.

"Trask!" Shaleena screamed, joining Hester at the gate. Her friend was outside!

Trask ran out to Hendar, drawing his knives, "Hurry, boy," he snapped, noting the vicious slash across the teenager's thigh. The Rakghouls did not like their prey being joined by a second human, and attacked. Trask growled at them in reply, his knives hissing as they cut the air, spilling mutant blood onto the dry soil. He was fast, and Malya was shocked again by his speed. His body moved just like a dancer's, never missing a step, every move ending either in another's death, or avoidance of an attack, which flowed into the up-worlder's next attack.

Those at the gate had gone completely silent, watching the display of lithe slaughter. He wasn't as strong as a Rakghoul, but he was faster, and his blades were not hampered by their hide.

"Open the gate," Hendar begged, leaning heavily on his spear. Trask kicked the last Rakghoul's legs out from under it, and laid its throat open with a single slash.

Swiftly, Trewin unbarred the gate and swung it open, "Hurry!" he cried, and Hendar limped in. Trask slipped through the gate close behind Hendar, and Trewin secured the heavy barrier.

Hendar leaned heavily on Hester's shoulder, "I can't thank you enough for saving me, Ghost. If I had anything but these rags on my back, it would be yours,"

Hester passionately kissed her lover, "I still have you, Hendar. That's all I need…"

Trask watched them disappear amid the tents. He had a fairly good idea as to how they would unwind their nerves. A small projectile slammed into him, and Trask staggered from Shaleena's hug. She was crying, and Trask felt a twinge of guilt. That guilt quickly turned to fear as the tears changed from relief, to fury.

((()))

Mission led them unerringly through the blasted landscape, without any glowrods to betray their position. Her species had adapted for subterranean life, after all. They reached the entrance to the sewer system, and everyone breathed a little easier. Their insertion point had been chosen to get them as close as possible to the sewers, limiting their exposure to the… _dangers_ of the undercity. After hearing all of the tales about the dangerous under levels… Kyle found himself cautiously disappointed… which was a good thing, as they moved through the sewer system.

Zaalbar paused, sniffing at the air, and raised his bowcaster. He growled something, and his matted fur began to stand up.

"What'd he say?" Carth whispered.

"Something about a Rancor," Kyle replied.

"_Rancor?_" Carth asked sharply.

((()))

Rukil sat before the warrior from the stars. In his young hands, he held Rukil's journal, a dusty tome, which held every clue the man could find before old age crept up upon him.

He had had another dream… and the portents could not be ignored.

"Trask, of the stars, you are fated to be the beacon on our path to salvation. You will guide us to the Promised Land," Rukil spoke.

Trask squinted at the old man, "I think you have me confused with someone else," he protested.

The old man smiled strangely, "You are marked, up-worlder – even my dim old eyes can see the mantle of destiny that cloaks you. Perhaps old Rukil knows you better than you know yourself. I am old – I have lived a hundred years in the Undercity, cast down into the darkness. I know the legends and history of our people – and now you must learn it too, in order to show us the way to the Promised Land."

Trask felt… strange. This man… his certainty… it was contagious. Trask couldn't put his finger on it, but he believed the old man knew what he was talking about. Trask sighed, "Alright… tell me the history of your people."

And so his apprenticeship began to Rukil, descendant and illegitimate great grandson of the Jedi knight Arkon Sul.

((()))

Kyle looked down through the grating; the darkness was illuminated in eerie shades of green. He could see the hunched creature watching them though, snaggle toothed maw open and drooling. It only stood three and a half meters tall. Most rancors reached seven meters in height.

"He's not very big…" Kyle noted.

"Don't let that fool you," Mission warned, "He's really fast… and hungry."

Kyle reached down and pulled a fragmentation grenade from his belt, "I've got an idea…" Carth waited impatiently for his commando to return. One of the Rodians buzzed a question to the Wookiee, who answered as briefly as possible.

Kyle returned several minutes later, dragging a Rakghoul carcass. He rewired the fragmentation grenade, synching it up to his vambrace's transmitter, and then closed up the explosive's casing.

"What are you…" Carth trailed off when Kyle shoved his armored hand up to the elbow down the Rakghoul's throat. When his slimy hand emerged, it was minus a grenade.

"Oh!" Mission's face lit up as she figured it out, then crinkled, "Eww…."

Kyle wiped his armor off as best he could on the tattered rags that clung to the Rakghoul, then lifted the heavy grating, and tossed the Rakghoul down to the Rancor, "Dinner!" he called.

The stunted creature never hesitated. Meat was meat.

Kyle suppressed a shiver at how quickly the Rakghoul disappeared. "Better look away," he advised, and tapped his vambrace, arming the grenade. Then he tapped the now lit stud, and there was a muffled explosion below. Blood sprayed everywhere, as well as bits of bone and meat.

Zaalbar sniffed hungrily, and picked up a giblet of flesh, tasting it. "Zaalbar, that's so _gross_!" Mission complained.

Zaalbar shrugged, meat was meat.

Kyle peered down at what remained of the Rancor. Most of its upper body was gone, leaving just enough flesh to keep the arms connected to the legs. It wasn't a pretty sight, but Sgt. Draven had crawled through worse. The party moved through the sewer tributary chamber, until they reached the far wall, which had several open pipes descending towards the floor. Mission pointed out the correct pipe.

Kyle peered up the pipe, and flipped from IR to thermal imaging. There were several heat blooms along the walls of the shaft, but he didn't see any obstructions. The shaft was only 60cm in diameter though. Kyle looked back at the broad shouldered Wookiee, "No offense, big guy, but I don't think you're coming with us."

"Big Z's fit through before, we'll be fine," Mission argued.

Zaalbar chuffed at her, worried, and Kyle cocked his head, "What got stuck?" he tried to clarify, and the Wookiee repeated himself, embarrassed.

"Oh. I bet that was painful," Kyle winced in sympathy. Carth didn't ask. With age came wisdom… and grey hairs.

Mission led the way, bracing herself against the inside of the tube with the sides of her feet, standing, braced with her hands, then drew her feet up. Rinse and repeat. This climbing method was less effective for those with armored boots and gloves. Zaalbar took up the rear, because no one wanted to be stuck behind him. At the top, Mission quickly untwisted the thick gage wire that secured the panel to the frame, and quietly lowered it out of sight. It was dark beyond the panel, which made sense. They were in one of the storage rooms, after all.

The intrepid thief slipped out into the room, and quickly found a live dataport, right where she'd seen it in her earlier explorations. She heard the rest of the party pulling themselves through the hole, and onto the floor.

Mission unfastened the control panel off the wall, and plunged her hands into the mess of wires and cables. Kyle glanced out into the corridor, but didn't see anyone.

The young twi'lek teased a few cables out of the rat's nest, and connected them to her datapad. She frowned in concentration, rapidly tapping in commands.

It took her a few minutes to sweet talk the less than cutting edge computer system into authorizing her, but Mission was a _master_ of flattery. Five minutes later it was eating out of her hand.

"I'm in."


	4. Chapter 4: Survival

"I still haven't found any sign of your officer in the base, but the prototype accelerator is down in the garage," Mission informed them, jumping to another video feed. "Show me," Kyle said. Mission turned the data pad, and scrolled through the facility map, she traced her finger along the route, showing the commando. "Take this hallway here, until you reach this junction, _here_. Then, you want to take a right. Head straight, and take the elevator here. I'll walk you through it," Mission promised.

((()))

Kyle edged along the hallway. Carth stood at his shoulder, and the rodians trailed along behind them.

Kyle touched his helmet, enhancing his HUD optics and resolution so that the camera he'd spotted at the end of the hall jumped out at him, as if it were only a meter away, "Mission, there's a camera in the corner ahead… it says A-v11. Can you put it on a fifteen second loop, until we're past it?"

"Yeah, give me a sec," Mission responded.

It took Mission fifteen seconds to loop the video feed. Fifteen long seconds, that might erupt in violence at any moment, should some hapless Vulkar stumble into them.

The intruders managed to get all the way to the garage before a rodian belonging to the Vulkars spotted one of the Bek rodians and threw a strange knife, which slammed into the startled Bek Rodian's chest… from the catwalk… in the dark.

It had to be the compound eyes, Kyle thought, as he returned fire with more traditional means.

"So much for stealth," Carth complained, ducking back down behind a storage crate. The wounded Bek Rodian gurgled weakly on the garage floor, still trying to raise its blaster and return fire.

"I wouldn't worry, I've disabled the Black Vulkar's communications. Unless one of them physically leaves the level, no one's going to know we're here," Mission smugly answered.

Kyle peeked around the corner, and snapped off a shot, which hit one of the Vulkar thugs across the garage. The injured thug fell back, clutching his useless shoulder.

A Nikto with more guts than brains tried to sneak around to the left and flank the intruders.

"I thought Gadon drew most of these bastards off!" Carth shouted, his shot throwing the flanker into a pile of discarded scrap.

"Obviously, he missed some, sir," Kyle snapped back, using the optical sights on his helmet to patiently line up a pinpoint shot with his rifle, and cap a Twi'lek thug at sixty meters.

"_Heya_ Carth, the Vulkars have a couple repair droids—" Mission started to say.

"Grenade!" Carth shouted, and the group dove to get something in between them and the grenade.

"—recharging in some sockets, I'm—"

The explosion drowned out whatever the young slicer said, and left Carth's ears ringing. He envied Kyle's helmet.

"—so get ready," Mission finished.

"What? Say again?" Carth called.

The Vulkars started screaming and yelling. From what Kyle could see, two squat little repair droids were chasing the Vulkars with a fusioncutter, arc welder, and a pair of bolt cutters between them.

It was almost funny, Kyle thought. He flicked his rifle over to burst fire, and shredded the Vulkars who had partially left cover. The smarter ones tried to slag the droids, without leaving cover, and learned that an arc welder, or fusion cutter were just as deadly as a blaster… albeit slower in killing.

"Thank you for the droids, Mission," Carth said.

"Uh… I just made them berserk. There wasn't time to actually reprogram their friend-foe tags. I just set everything that moved as a foe," Mission answered sheepishly.

The surviving the utility droid caught sight of Carth, and with an insane little squeal, rolled over the garage deck drunkenly, badly damaged from multiple point-blank shots. Carth raised his blaster, sighted, and fired in less than a second. He hit the power core dead center, and the droid's photoreceptor went dark.

Kyle checked the wounded rodian, but shook his head at Carth, "He's gone."

The surviving Rodian quickly stripped his friend of blaster, knife, power packs, and valuables. _((Waste not.))_ the Rodian told Kyle.

"Take a left at this next junction. I can't unlock the door to the labs from here, but you should be able to patch me into the security station there," Mission said.

"Got it," Carth confirmed, and motioned for Kyle to take point again.

((()))

Mission cycled through the various camera feeds, watching for Vulkars, and waiting for the strike team to patch her into the security systems in the garage.

Somewhere nearby, a door opened out of sight, and Zaalbar heard a Duros screaming abuse at someone.

That someone hurried around the corner, and into the storage room. She saw a twi'lek girl crouched over a datapad, with a comlink headset. Then Zaalbar was there, and clamped a paw over her mouth. Mission looked up when she heard a neatly muffled scream and caught sight of Zaalbar's hostage. She was thirteen, maybe. Human female, artificially dyed black hair, and sporting several scars and bruises. Her eyes were wide, and very, very green.

"Hi there," Mission chirped, and returned her attention to the screen. "Alright guys, there's some Vulkars coming up the corridor on your left, six of them, look like technicians."

((()))

Kyle wiped the blood off his knife, "Mission, they weren't techs."

"Oh. Sorry. Have you reached the security station yet?"

"Working on it," Carth replied. He helped the rodian up, but the alien waved him off, tying a strip of cloth over the stab wound in his leg, to staunch the blood.

Rodians were tough, persistent little bastards.

Kyle hacked a door control with an EMP stylus from his belt, and engaged the manual release, since he'd fried the electronic locking mechanism. "Commando standard issue?" Carth asked conversationally, looking at the highly _illegal_ tool in the commando's hand.

The armored man shrugged, "All the best toys, sir."

((()))

"Do you promise not to scream?" Mission asked. The girl nodded frantically.

"Okay… but if you do scream, Big Z here might have to smack you," Mission told her.

The girl froze, and Mission nodded to her friend. The wookiee let go, and the girl fell to her knees, "Please don't hurt me – I just serve the food here, that's all! I'm not like these others – I'm not even a Black Vulkar. Please don't kill me!" she whispered in a sob.

Mission giggled, "I'm not going to _kill_ you." That would be stupid.

"You… you're not?" the human girl asked, off balance.

Mission looked back at the datapad, using the uplink feed from the commando's helmet cam to watch him struggle to patch her into the security console.

"How did you end up in the Vulkar base?" Mission asked, distracted.

"My father… owed Davik some money, but he couldn't pay," the girl whispered. She didn't say more, but Mission could connect the dots: _Set example by killing deadbeat father, sell girl, get money back. _

"What's your name?"

The girl hesitated, like names had power, or something. Or she'd forgotten.

"Ada… my name is Ada."

((()))

"Ha. Superior engineering my _ass_," Kyle grunted, finishing splicing the "idiot proof" relay tine into the communication port of the security station.

"Mission, are you getting a signal?" He asked.

"Uh… kind of. You put the prongs in the wrong ports. Flip 'em around," Mission suggested.

"_Frelling _damn it," Kyle said tiredly, and tried to jimmy the tightly wedged jack back out.

Carth watched. He sympathized with the commando, but he'd already seen the soldier shock himself twice, with _insulated_ gloves. Carth had _no_ gloves, so Carth would _not_ be going anywhere near the cantankerous, highly electrified console. That's what grumpy commandos with diverse vocabularies and a hatred for machines were for.

Kyle shocked himself again.

((()))

"What're you doing?" Ada asked. Mission tilted the datapad, "I'm keeping these idiots from getting lost," she answered.

"Mission. You're transmitting," Carth said bluntly.

"Sorry," the girl answered, not sounding sorry at all. Kyle said something too, but Mission didn't think it was directed at her, unless somehow her ancestry contained a sonic toaster and a kinky Hutt. There were other adjectives mixed in, but Mission couldn't understand half of them… she was only trilingual.

"Hey, Ada, you haven't seen a prisoner, have you? Some woman named Bastila?" Mission asked suddenly, startling the skittish serving girl.

"Is— is she that republic soldier? I heard one of those Vulkars mention her, but she's not here. He said Brejik didn't _trust_ his men around _her._ I guess she's _too important_ to be a _slave _here in the kitchens, getting _pawed_ and _groped_ and _kicked_ and _spit_ _on_ like _me_. Brejik must have taken her somewhere _safe_," Ada snarled.

"Whoa, girl, power down the turbolasers. Just askin a question," Misson protested.

"Sorry," Ada muttered, glancing nervously at Zaalbar.

((()))

"Ha!" Kyle hissed, shoving the jack in correctly. "Alright Mission, what are you getting?" he demanded, perhaps a little sharply.

"Nothing. Empty read," Mission replied.

"You're joking," Kyle flatly denied, unwilling to contemplate resetting the jack a _third _time.

"How'd you know?" Mission asked, put out.

"What?" Carth asked, irritated, "this is serious, girl. People are shooting at us. If you can't stay focused, and professional…"

"Sorry! It won't happen again!" Mission said hastily, and this time she did sound sorry.

"What are you getting from the jack?" Kyle asked again.

"Yeah, readings are good. I've synched platforms and… there. I have access. I'll unlock the lab when you get there, no point alerting anybody inside ahead of time."

Carth looked at the commando, "Ready to kill something?"

"You have _no idea_, sir…"

((()))

Zaalbar heard footsteps and angry muttering approaching. The girls were still distracted, talking, but the Wookiee scout had not relaxed his vigil. The Duros cook stormed in, and froze, staring at the huddled girls. Then the grey skinned alien's neck snapped loudly, and Zaalbar tossed him in the corner. Ada stared at the cook. She stood up, and walked over to the broken corpse.

"I hate you," she whispered. Then she was screaming, and beating the corpse with her fists. She'd completely blown both her stacks, flipped her lid, and flown off multiple handles, Mission decided. Unfortunately, other people heard it… and came running.

"Uh guys, hurry up. The Vulkars found us," Mission said. Zaalbar smashed a knife wielding gang banger into a wall with one hand, and kicked another in the throat, killing him out right. His bowcaster was still slung across his back.

((()))

Carth, Kyle, and the Rodian broke into a jog (the later had a distinct limp to his).

"Turn right at the next corridor," Mission said, distractedly.

"Uh Mission, we can only turn left," Carth mentioned.

"Sorry, I meant left!" she sounded flustered.

"If you're sure…" Carth said, hesitantly.

"Go left, damn it!" Mission barked.

((()))

Mission leveled her hold-out blaster, and squeezed off a few shots. The small weapon was underpowered by most standards, but Mission loved the feel of it in her hand… and she was a crack shot with it too. "Big Z, blaster on your right!" she snapped. Zaalbar turned, still holding a squirming nikto, who took several blaster shots intended for the wookiee… who promptly used the dying shield as a bola, to take down the blaster toting gang banger.

"Mission, we're at the lab." She glanced back at the pad, and unlocked the lab for Carth.

"Come on, goggle-eyes!" she taunted, dropping a rodian wearing Vulkar colors, who had slipped past the angry wookiee, intent on what it perceived as the easier target.

((()))

Kyle entered the darkened lab at a crouch, his visor on IR. He panned the room, but didn't see any immediate threats. No trip lines, pressure sensors, atmospheric scanners… nothing. That put him on edge. This man, Brejik, was gambling his entire fledgling gang-empire on the prototype accelerator winning his race. Brejik didn't even have _alarms_ on it?

Kyle searched the room, while Carth and the Rodian stood at the door, watching for trouble. Near the back, Kyle found a security field enclosing a cylindrical object, which certainly _looked_ like it belonged in a swoop bike. Sgt. Draven set his rifle aside, and set to work on figuring out how the accelerator was guarded.

"Sergeant, how's it coming?" Carth asked nervously.

"Working on the security safeguards now, sir," Kyle answered, ignoring the sweat dripping into his eyes. This wasn't his forte. For a moment, Kyle wished Ricki, from his old squad, was here. The devaronian would have had the security field cracked several minutes ago, and make it look easy doing it. Kyle hadn't thought about his dead squadmates for… months.

With a flicker, the field died, and Kyle grinned. _Success_. He ran a gauntlet scanner over the object, but his scan didn't pick up any obvious alarms… or at least, nothing high tech.

((()))

Ada huddled in a corner, her arms thrown over her head. Nearby, someone was screaming, before there was a crunch of bone, and the screaming stopped.

Zaalbar dropped the dead Vulkar, and snorted, trying to master the blood rage.

"Mission, is this what we came for?" Kyle asked.

The young Twi'lek paused, and tapped her headset, "What was that?"

"Check my helmet cam. Is this the prototype?" the commando asked again, patiently.

"Uh… from what I can see?" Mission hedged, peering at the data pad's screen closely, "Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. We're falling back to your position."

There was a rustle behind the girl, which was the only warning she got before a monstrosity surged out of the darkness.

"Ahh!" Mission screamed, and scrambled away. The Rakghoul missed its target, and snarled mindlessly, scrabbling after her. Then a wookiee broke the monster in half, and stuffed it back down the pipe they had climbed into the base through. His keen hearing heard more monsters below… _no doubt attracted by the smell of the kill… and with no rancor alive to eat them… _It only took Zaalbar a moment to work out how long before the Rakghouls would be drawn to the pipe… and the smell of living meat. It sounded like a lot of Rakghouls though.

((()))

"Hey, Carth, um… we've got a problem," Mission said, some panic in her voice.

"This is Carth, go ahead," the captain acknowledged, as the group back tracked. The Rodian was starting to noticeably slow. Tough or not, he was sporting a rather serious leg injury.

"Uh, when we blew up the rancor…" Mission trailed off.

Carth was not getting a good feeling, "What about the rancor?" he asked tiredly.

"Well, a whole bunch of Rakghouls came and started eating it. Now they're climbing up the pipe," Mission blurted.

What this meant to Carth, was that their exit strategy had just gone to hell.

"Alright… hang tight, we're almost to the elevator," Carth told her heavily.

"Uh, are you still in the garage?"

"Yes, Mission."

"Zaalbar wants you to grab… a fusion cutter, an arc welder, and welding goggles," Mission relayed.

((()))

Zaalbar stuffed another dead Vulkar down the pipe in a gristly crumpled ball. So far, most of the aliens were too skinny, even folded in half. It was filling up the bottom of the pipe, a little, and distracting the Rakghouls. It sounded like every monster within three kilometers had come.

"Come on Ada, help me," Mission snapped, trying to tug a particularly obese corpse towards the hole.

Zaalbar picked up the dead body, and shoved it into the hole. After some initial resistance, the body was… _persuaded_ into the pipe, and this time, the body lodged about half-way down the pipe. With that initial stop-gap measure in place, the intelligent Wookiee began testing the surrounding cargo cylinders for weight.

_((Watch the door, Mission)) _Zaalbar growled, and the Twi'lek grimly obeyed. Ada was still paralyzed with fear, rocking in the corner.

Quickly, the wookiee found a heavy-duty cargo container, made of plasteel. It would work… probably.

Mission watched her friend begin ripping the lids off of the containers in the storage room, keeping half an eye on the hallway. Apparently he wasn't finding what he wanted… but then he paused, and pulled out some old fuel-slug power cells. Each was a cylinder, roughly as large as someone's head and three times heavier. With a contemplative grumble, Zaalbar hefted its weight experimentally… then tossed it down the hole. There was a loud impact of some kind, and something screamed in very definite pain.

Zaalbar bared his teeth, and picked up the large packing crate… it had to weight at least twice as much as Zaalbar… and tipped the contents into the hole.

Mission grinned wickedly, half deafened by the thundering hail.

It's hard to climb a pipe when heavy things are raining down on you, Mission decided.

((()))

"No, not that one, Big Z! This one! It feels heavy!" echoed down the hall, followed shortly by a cascade of clattering metal falling. The curious chuffing, what passed for Wookiee laughter, bounced down the corridor too.

Carth looked over at Kyle, but the commando shrugged; it was no concern of his.

The two men walked into the storage room, and paused. Empty cargo crates and packing material was strewn all over the floor.

"Look, cyclic stabilizing nodules!" Mission cried, hefting a handful of small metal components that looked almost like ugly wedding bands. The Wookiee grunted something, and poured the contents of the crate down the hole, followed by inhuman screams of rage.

"Who asked for welding tools?" Kyle shouted over the noise. Without explanation, Zaalbar came over, grabbed the goggles, and arc welder. He slipped the goggles on over his eyes, a tough fit around the nose because of his muzzle, and quickly began welding the metal grate cover back over the hole.

Carth bemusedly watched the Twi'lek urchin continue to rummage through the storage crates. Apparently, most of the stuff was junk… judging by her rough language, anyway.

"Who's this?" Kyle asked, pointing to the rocking girl in the corner.

"Oh, that's Ada. Can she come with us?" Mission asked, looking up at Carth beseechingly, "The Vulkars were _terrible _to her," she leaned in closer and whispered, "I think they might have… _you know_… to her."

Carth looked down at the young Twi'lek, who could not have been older than twelve. His son, Dustil had been twelve when… when— before the old memories and ghosts could awaken, Carth slammed the lid on their box back down.

Someone that young shouldn't be so wise to the world… "Are you sure?" Carth asked Mission quietly. The urchin shrugged, "Pretty sure, yeah."

Captain Onasi slowly moved over to the rocking girl, Ada, and crouched several feet from her, "Hey, honey, is your name Ada?" Carth tried to keep his voice as gentle as possible. He realized that the girl was muttering something under her breath.

Her eyes weren't focused… she looked like she was in shock. He tried to get her attention without touching her, but she couldn't seem to hear, or see him.

The Republic captain nodded slowly to himself. "Sergeant?" he called. Kyle glanced up from his position by the door, "Sir?"

"Change of plans. The girl comes with us," Carth said grimly.

"Not a problem, sir," the commando replied quietly.

"Are we done here?" Carth asked no one in particular.

((()))

"Open the doors, Mission," Carth instructed. "Yes _boss_," the girl mocked, as she tapped in the commands on her datapad. It was still linked to the security station via Kyle's wireless jack… which had an effective range of roughly six hundred meters in such a tight urban sprawl. (There was a lot of interference from the dense materials of the buildings, especially for such a compact and low profile sensor jack)

The thick blast doors began to open, slowly.

"That was quick," Carth commented, a little impressed.

"Uh… that wasn't me. I'm still halfway through rerouting the security protocols," Mission stammered.

Kyle's eyes widened, "Someone's coming back!" The group hustled into the lee of the doors, and hid behind a haphazard stack of cargo pallets. The Rodian's faceted eyes had grown even glossier, but they didn't have time to properly dress the knife wound yet. "Hold on just a little longer," Carth told the injured alien.

Kyle's armored finger was tense on the trigger of his blaster rifle. He could hear the high pitched thrumming of swoop bikes rapidly approaching.

"How many people can pilot a swoop bike?" Kyle urgently whispered. The rodian raised his hand, and so did Mission. Kyle glanced at Carth, who seemed uncomfortable.

"Sir?" Kyle asked again.

"Well… when I was seventeen… I did fly a friend's swoop bike on my birthday… but it's been _years _since then, and—" Carth answered.

"You don't have to be an expert, just get it in the air and moving," Kyle told him reassuringly. Kyle was good at Plan-F's. A commando had to be flexible, and think on his feet… or else he was dead, and in less than ten seconds, Kyle outlined a viable contingency plan to his superior.

"Okay. Let's do it," Carth agreed quietly. Kyle didn't mention the hard part was stopping the rapidly moving vehicle in a fashion that permitted the passengers to walk away. Flying was easy. Landing was a bitch.

((()))

Four swoop bikes throttled down, and coasted into the garage. The vulkars riding the bikes had barely set down and sat up when they were shredded by heavy blaster fire, and even a quarrel from a bowcaster was in the mix.

"Let's go!" Carth barked. The group quickly jumped onto the bikes, and awkwardly had them turned around a few seconds later; Kyle could see more stragglers coming down the expressway. They'd noticed the light from the blaster discharges in the darkened hanger… but the intruders still managed to get airborne, and a few second lead on the stragglers. Unfortunately, swoop gang members were typically better at piloting swoops than the average commando, naval captain, delinquent teenager, and hemorrhaging rodian. As such, that lead evaporated in only a handful of seconds… and drastic measures were needed.

Kyle gritted his teeth, and swung the swoop bike into a sharp turn, and slammed into one of the pursuing Vulkars, knocking him off course, and into the oncoming commuter traffic lane. A large hover transport splatted the biker without slowing or noticing.

Blaster fire slammed into Kyle's bike. The commando tried to compensate, but although _qualified_ to fly a swoop, he was no master of it.

Carth glanced over to see Sgt. Draven belly flop his swoop, and tumble off.

"Kyle is down!" Carth called, but only Mission heard him on her headset.

"This is Kyle, proceeding on foot. I'll meet up with you later—" the commando said breathlessly.

((()))

There was an abandoned housing complex just ahead, if he could make it there… he'd have a chance. Kyle didn't know where his rifle was, the hardened carry strap had either broken, or been severed during the crash. He had no grenades left, and during the fall, apparently he'd landed hard enough to snap the handle off his heavy blaster pistol.

Unfortunately for the Vulkars, his combat knife was still in his sheathe…

((()))

Malya stood at the entrance to the village, staring out into the wastes. Rukil had given her a quest… but… she did not know if she would succeed. She'd never left the village alone…

"So, when are we leaving?" a voice asked cockily behind her. Malya spun, recognizing the pale haired Trask. "You!" she accused.

"Me," he said smugly. "Go back to your tent!" Malya ordered, but the annoying man shook his head, "You sister made me promise to make sure you came back… and you know what she's like."

"This is _my_ quest! Why must you be so… so…" Malya was beside herself. At _every _turn, the man was there, finding small ways to irritate her!

Trask smiled, "You're cute when you're angry," he teased, and damn him if she didn't blush.

"I'm just a side-kick. You're the hero. You lead, and I'll watch your back," Trask promised.

"You _listen to me_!" she spat.

"I'm all ears, beautiful," the man promised.

"Keep addressing my like that and you'll lose an ear or two," the girl hissed.

"Don't get yourself in a twist over it, gorgeous," Trask replied.

Mayla spun and stalked off into the darkness, back rigidly straight.

Trask smiled as he followed the young woman. He was pretty sure she was seventeen, which made him two years older… but he would see where this led.

"If it'll make you feel better, you can call me something, Go ahead, come on, I can take it," Trask apologized.

"Don't be ridiculous," Malaya snapped.

"What? Afraid you'll hurt my feelings? Come on, spit it out. You can do it," Trask encouraged.

"How about _sexist worm?_" the girl hissed.

"Is that it? You can do better than that," Trask grinned.

"How about _pushy thug_?"

((()))

Kyle crouched in the shadows, and watched through a hole in a wall as the Vulkars entered cautiously. He counted seventeen, all armed with a motley array of weapons. A few even had glow rods. Grimly, the hardened veteran clenched his knife, and tried to get his right arm to bend at the elbow, without success. Kyle didn't think it was broken, but he'd injured it in the fall somehow. Quickly, the man slipped deeper into the maze-like hallways of the condemned building. He had two major advantages over his opponents:

First, most of them were Nikto, or human. _Neither _of those species possessed excellent hearing or night vision, and he still had his helmet with its IR and thermal vision filters.

Second, they were idiots.

((()))

The swoop gang split up into _three_ different parties; each had one of the glow rods. Kyle targeted the group of five first. He quietly stripped some optical cable from a ruined computer hub, and twisted the strong fibers into a fairly sturdy line. The commando coiled the line to his belt, which was awkward with only one hand. Kyle watched from a crumbling second story balcony as the group of five cautiously crept through the hall below him. A human had the glow rod, and was at the front of the group. Two nikto, and three more humans followed behind him. Each had a blaster pistol of varying model.

Quietly, the camouflaged predator shadowed the group, until he saw an opening. The human at the back of the group was straggling, nearly two meters behind the group. Without hesitation, the shadow pounced. Kyle felt the visceral grating vibration of his knife sliding between two vertebrae at the back of the human's neck, severing the spinal cord at the fatal C-2 juncture, the "sweet spot" on humans. He let go of the knife in time to throw his good arm around the corpse. Kyle cursed his useless right arm, and lowered the dead man to the ground, as the group of swoop gang-bangers kept creeping deeper into the apartment complex, unaware that their group had grown smaller… and Kyle now had some toys to play with.

((()))

"You left him behind!" Mission accused. Carth ignored her, handing the prototype accelerator to Gadon, "The prototype," he said bitterly.

The big black man looked at Carth grimly, "I'll have my techs start on this right away… and about your man. I'm sorry. I lost people too…"

Carth nodded stiffly, "He might still be alive. He's been through worse."

"In that case," Gadon motioned to Zaerdra, who reluctantly slipped from the warehouse.

Dia watched helplessly. _Left behind?_

((()))

Kyle checked the blaster packs for his sidearm, to see if they were compatible with the cheap Czerka knock-off he'd looted. Naturally, they weren't. His luck wasn't that good. It didn't bother him though, because the blaster still had seven full power shots left. The commando was confident the badly neglected weapon wouldn't explode in his hand. At least, _probably_ not.

Kyle hid the comlink he'd taken from the first vulkar inside a gutted apartment, near the door though, and then carefully rewired his broken blaster pistol into an impromptu grenade. _Now_, when the trigger was pulled, instead of overloading and exploding immediately, he would have a two second window to get rid of the damaged weapon. He hefted the stubby weapon by the barrel. Its balance felt similar to a cryo-ban stick grenade, which brought back a few fond memories. He saw the light from a glow-rod splash the far wall of the hallway, and grinned, getting into position.

((()))

Jeth was not having a good day. Carl had either gotten lost, or slipped off to snort some spice. Either way, Kandon Ark was going to yell at him. Beat him too, but Jeth was more afraid of what the irritable Twi'lek could have _others_ do to him. Then deliverance fell into his lap. He could hear something… "Quiet!" he hissed to the idiots around him, and listened. He was hearing… a man… in pain, trying to be quiet. Half-bitten groans and grunts, almost too soft to hear.

Jeth felt that he had the best hearing in Brejik's gang, and proved it, pinpointing the sounds.

"In that apartment… I think our bastard's in the apartment," Jeth whispered. The nikto nodded dumbly, distracted by the idea of killing something very soon. "You two, go in first," Jeth snapped, pointing at the nikto. Eagerly, they pushed past him, into the dark room. Jeth followed them. The sounds had stopped. The man knew they were near. Jeth swept his glow-rod around the room, but there were only a few places to hide… he heard a strange noise, and spun. Caught in the light, Jory slumped, a knife in the back of his neck, and an armored man in camouflage drew a blaster in the time it took Jeth to raise his. _Fierfeik!_

((()))

Kyle shot the young man with the glow-rod first, in the left eye. The two nikto spun at the sound of his blaster, and the sergeant double tapped both of them, in the chest. The second nikto though, didn't die immediately, and managed to get a shot off, which slammed into Kyle's own chest, two inches below his throat, so Kyle shot him again, and tossed the useless blaster aside. Fifteen seconds later, Kyle had stripped the bodies of useful items, and disappeared into the shadows.

((()))

Kandon Ark was a patient man. Except where incompetence was concerned. He looked at the dead bodies scattered in the room. Two nikto, two humans. He had found another human deeper in the apartments, also dead. His men were being hunted… The wily ex-warrior felt a flurry of excitement rise in his belly. Finally: someone worth killing…

((()))

Kyle searched for an escape route from the building, which didn't involve stepping outside, since he had little inclination of becoming a vulkar's hood ornament. He was looking for a maintenance access, or ventilation shaft.

Trapped. _Damn_. Kyle glanced around, but it was indeed a dead end. He could hear the vulkars closing, behind him, as well as see their glow rods. No help for it then. Kyle pulled his impromptu grenade out, and stepped to the corner. He pulled the trigger, then strong armed it into the advancing group.

"Look out!" someone yelled, before the blaster exploded violently. Kyle sprinted towards the group, firing one of his stolen blasters. The Vulkars were off-balance, and although the exploding blaster hadn't been exactly _lethal_, it had caused confusion and a wonderful distraction. Kyle hurled a spent blaster into an alien's startled face, and pulled another blaster from the webbing on his chest, hardly slowed.

((()))

Kandon Ark watched the man tear through the fools he had sent ahead. The exploding blaster had been _brilliant_, no pun intended. It was refreshing to fight enemies capable of creative thought. He noted though that the armored man's right arm was apparently injured, clutched to his side as he fought. The man hurled his blaster, apparently spent, and yanked another weapon from webbing on his chest plate, still fighting. Here was a man who danced with death, Kandon was sure.

Kyle growled in frustration. A Nikto had grabbed his bad arm, and Sgt. Draven frantically bashed the alien's rugged face with the butte of his useless blaster. On the third hit, the alien weakened, and Kyle kicked him hard, in the genitals. That finished it, and the alien crumpled. Some of the Vulkars were starting to organize behind him, and Kyle charged on. Two Twi'lek's barred his way, a male and female. Kyle hurled his blaster at the man, who slapped it out of the air. _Quick hands_, Kyle noted, drawing his knife. He had an advantage though. He was armored.

((()))

Kandon was ready for the blaster throw. Seli shifted to the left, letting the man attack Kandon directly. The brawny Twi'lek deflected the knife with a blade of his own,

Seli's kick hit the back of the man's knee, collapsing it, and she snatched his injured arm, twisting it up behind his back, and kicked the knife out of the man's hand, quickly securing her grips on his arms.

Kandon looked down at this faceless warrior.

Seli looked up at Kandon, "Would you like me to dispose of this Bek spy, Kandon?" she purred.

"No, wait a moment, darling…" Ark replied, looking at the man… "You aren't wearing the Hidden Bek colors. Are you from one of the smaller gangs?"

"No." the voice was cold, modulated by the tinny helmet speaker.

"Ah… a freelance mercenary, perhaps?" Kandon questioned. The man stayed quiet, and Kandon chuckled, "I enjoyed watching your work, you know. I could use someone like you in my organization."

"I killed half your men, and now you are offering me a job?" the mercenary sounded nonplussed.

"I appreciate art when I see it. I am no barbarian, and the men you killed were weak," Kandon said.

There was a pause before the mercenary spoke again, "At the moment, you have my undivided attention."

"Smart of you, Gadon Thek is old news. Brejik is a visionary – soon he'll control the entire Lower City," Kandon answered, "I want you to do something for me…"

Kyle watched the Black Vulkar begin his recruitment spiel. As he spoke, Kyle felt the unconscious loosening of the woman's hold on him. He had underestimated her before... but they should have taken his helmet. He had one last card to play, painful as it would be…

In the silence of his helmet, Kyle spoke three words, and things were set in motion.

The incompatible blaster packs he had wired in sequence with stolen com-links received the signal they were waiting for, and began to overload. He had two of the devices, on his belt. They were essentially flash-bangs… but even with his armor, this was going to hurt…

Kandon had a moment of confusion when something exploded. His ears were still ringing when he was capable of lucid thought. Seli too, looked dazed, but also furious. It was an amusing combination on such beautiful features. The mercenary was gone.

"I can see there's not much chance of convincing you to come work for us after all. Most unfortunate," Kandon sighed.

Seli snarled, "Now can I kill him, Kandon?" He would have slapped her for using that tone, except the fury was not directed at him, but the mercenary.

"Yes darling. Kill him. Kill him slow."

((()))

Kyle stumbled through the ruins, gasping in pain. It felt like a Gammorean had been kicking him in the ribs for the hell of it. His armor had held though, thankfully. Kyle's right arm was still screaming at him, as well as his left knee. He was a mess.

Kyle tripped on a fallen piece of duracrete. The floor ahead had collapsed into the room below, creating a ramp of sorts, that he rolled down, crashing into a couple of ruined chairs and a table covered in a fungal colony of some kind at the bottom. When his ribs stopped screaming, and he could think lucidly again, Kyle realized that he was not alone. At the top of the ramp stood the Twi'lek woman. She had a vibro-blade in one hand, and his knife in the other… not to mention murder in her eyes.

Draven crawled to his feet, and stared up at the woman, waiting. She tossed his knife down, and it landed at his feet. Stiffly, he picked it up, only half feigning his injuries. She slipped down the ramp like quick-silver, possessing a dancer's grace. He was facing a predator. The first attack was a sudden, darting motion. Kyle lurched away, and the testing slash missed. For the next minute, the dancer probed his defenses, trying to decide just how injured he was, and then, she did not care.

Her attacks were fast, brutal, and precise. Kyle felt her short vibro-blade slice his plastoid armor, and thinly cut the flesh beneath, avoiding his slower counter attacks. Technically, he had three inches of reach on her, but she was much faster.

The only thing in his favor, was that she liked to play with her food. Kyle could feel himself slowing, the multitude of cuts was building up.

"You are weak, human," the predator told him coyly.

Kyle squinted at her, a chill running down his spine. She was becoming aroused, by the act of _killing_ him. He was going to lose this game.

It was time to change the rules. Draven stumbled, and fell awkwardly, the knife falling from his hand, out of reach. He weakly reached for it, stretching his hand out desperately, but the weapon was clearly out of reach. The predator circled, and pounced, as Draven knew she would.

Kyle rolled, and kicked, pouring everything he had into the movement, adrenaline flooding his system. His boot connected, knocking the woman's leg out from under her, and he slammed the rock in his hand down, hard, on her head. She deflected his arm with her own though, and tried to stab him. He lost the rock, and grabbed her wrist, trying to force it away with one hand, as she used two hands against him. His sudden burst of strength was waning, but the commando refused to yield.

Kyle's knife thunked into the twi'lek female's throat, where both she and Kyle stared at it in confusion. Then he looked to the left, and saw _another_ twi'lek woman poised like a tusk-cat, her arm still outstretched from the throw.

"What took you so long?" Kyle demanded, twisting his knife in the Twi'lek's throat to kill her.

"I got lost," Zaerdra replied evenly, unashamed.

"Lost?" Kyle asked heavily.

"Yes. I lost my way in these ruins, trying to reach your emergency beacon," Zaerdra explained, helping the armored commando to his feet.

"How badly are you injured?" she inquired, only partly interested.

"I can walk," he growled.

"I wasn't going to carry you," Zaerdra informed him.

((()))

Carth looked up as the door to the warehouse opened, and a very battered man entered, followed by a sleek shadow.

The captain stared at the grim commando. Blood had trickled on his plates and dried from dozens of short cuts that had pierced them.

"What happened?" Carth asked.

"A bitch with a vibro-blade tried to skin me alive… sir. She failed, end of report," Sgt. Draven replied angrily.

"Go get patched up, soldier, you've definitely earned your rack time,"

"Thank you, sir."

Dia hovered in the background. The commando looked _terrible_. He limped off, deeper into the warehouse, and the shy woman followed him, discretely.

Kyle let the doctor-in-hiding Zelka Forn _tisk and tut_ over his injuries, before finally tending to them. He wasn't the only one in the curtain wall medical area. The rodian with the stab wound in his leg had apparently made it back to base. Kyle nodded to him, and received a nod from the rodian. The black faceted eyes still sent a shiver down Kyle's spine.

To Kyle's great surprise, most of his injuries were minor. The lacerations were quickly treated with kolto and sterile bandages. His right elbow was sprained, not broken, and his knee was actually undamaged, _or_ Zelka's medical scanner was broken, because his knee was very unhappy with Kyle for it to be "undamaged."

Carth stood by Gadon Thek, and watched him tab down a datapad.  
"Can I help you, captain?" Thek asked, not even looking up from the pad, distracted.

"How are we going to recover Bastila, after the race?" Carth asked.

"To be honest, Bastila is near the bottom of my worries right now, captain."

((()))

Trask and Malya had followed the directions to the sewers, where the father and forefather of Rukil had last been seen. Of course, that wasn't much help…

Malya crouched beside a shriveled, desiccated corpse. One of its arms was missing, and chunks had been clearly ripped out of the neck… obviously the victim of Rakghouls… she searched the corpse, but found nothing… until she flipped him over. He had fallen on a _book_. It was enclosed within a transparent plastic case, its paper pages intact despite the years and conditions. Excitedly, Malya popped the case open, and carefully looked through the pages. The dead man's handwriting was cramped and spidery. But Malya could read it. After a few pages, she realized that this was the journal of Rukil's father, Vintil. There were half-finished hand drawn maps, and pages of jotted notes.

Trask touched her shoulder, "Is that it?"

Malya shook her head, "I still have to find Rukil's grandfather's journal."

((()))

The man sat in his private room. It was not as opulent as he'd have liked… but it did have a holo-vid access, a sign of his power. After all, the Lower City wasn't supposed to have something as _Upper_ city as a holo-vid projector, much less actual access to the vaunted network. He watched a holovised dueling match. Brejik still remembered the old days, when death matches were still legal… he sighed, as _Deadeye Duncan_, possibly the _worst_ gunman on Taris, drew his blaster so rapidly from his holster that he lost hold of it. Both duelists watched the blaster arc from his hand, and clatter to the deck. _Deadeye _looked at his opponent beseechingly. Now, _Gerlon_ _Two-Fingers_, was everything Deadeye was not. Despite being younger than _Deadeye_, by nearly twenty years, _Two-Fingers_ had served in the war against the Mandlorians, when they had conquered Taris.

In fact, that's how he'd lost all the fingers on his right except for thumb and trigger finger. What made Brejik respect this man, was that _Two-Fingers_, had refused to shoot with his left hand, and was still an excellent marksman with his right hand despite the… losses.

_Two-Fingers_ sighed, and gestured for _Deadeye_ to recover his weapon. Sheepishly, the older man scurried over to his sidearm, and snatched it up, desperately aiming at _Two-fingers_, who stood ten meters away, waiting.

_Deadeye_ snapped off three shots… all of which missed by half a meter or more.

Gerlon causally aimed his blaster, fired once, and walked away as his opponent collapsed, stunned… again.

Now, Brejik wasn't the only person in his room. Shackled to the wall by crude chains, was a scantily clad woman. Her alabaster skin had once been bruised and covered in scrapes… but after some kolto treatments, her beauty had been restored. Around her neck, like a collar, was possibly the most expensive and illegal device in the slaving business, a _neural disruptor_. It created dissonance in an organic's neural pathways, preventing higher level cognitive function, while keeping the autonomic systems of the body working. The effects were also temporary, lasting only as long as the disruptor was in place. Brejik likened it to a droid's restraining bolt… to keep unruly merchandise… pacified.

Those chains had held other beautiful females in the months since Brejik took over the pitiful Vulkars, but the gang leader hadn't restrained any of _them_ with a neural disruptor… no, he relished the… struggle, as it were.

A knock at his door pulled him from his ruminations. Only one man in the organization would _dare_ disturb him at so late an hour…

"Come in," Brejik called, hitting the switch on his night stand that unlocked the door. It never paid to be too careful.

A green skinned twi'lek male entered the room. He smiled, showing his serrated teeth… but this was not a happy smile.

"What do you want, Kandon?"

"Sir… we have a… situation," the second in command hissed.

Brejik lost all interest in the holo-projector, "What's happened?" he demanded.

"The Hidden Beks… they stole the prototype."

"WHAT?!" Brejik roared, coming to his feet.

"We're still reviewing the footage, but sections of it have been… erased,"

"I don't care how they did it, I want that accelerator back, now!" Brejik screamed.

"We're still trying to locate the Hidden Beks, sir," Kandon explained carefully.

"Get out! You come back without that accelerator, and I'll kill you myself!" Brejik screamed.

Kandon nodded slowly, and left. Brejik locked the door and screamed, secure that his room was sound proof (he'd done so for other reasons) and began snatching things and throwing them. Most of them were expensive. Some of them were fragile. All of them were stolen.

Throughout the tirade, in the corner, a flicker of awareness stirred. It hid, deep within a numbed mind… gathering strength. It remembered what it must do… but it was so hard… so difficult…

Bastila began the slow process of using the force to insulate her mind… synapse by synapse…

((()))

Kandon Ark nodded to the informant. The nervous Duros anxiously rubbed his hands together, "And you're sure this information is accurate?" he asked. The gray skinned alien nodded frantically, his luminous amber eyes wide.

Kandon walked up to the door his datapad indicated, and well… he knocked. There was no reply. Kandon tried again, but there was still no answer. Very well, he had established that he wasn't trying to sneak in. Now, the dangerous part. The door was locked but… with a little assistance from his datapad… the lock flickered briefly before the auto-security algorithm cracked it. Technically _very_ illegal, but only if he was _caught_.

Kandon opened the door, keeping his hands clearly in sight, clearly empty, "Hello?" he called, and stepped inside the dark apartment.

The door snapped shut behind him, and the lights flared on, blinding him.

"Stop right there, or I'll give you a blaster shot right between the eyes!" a woman barked at him. Kandon couldn't see her yet, he was still blinking tears from his eyes, the downside to enhanced night vision. He froze though. Rough hands patted him down, removing his comlink, datapad, and blaster pistol. She didn't find his throwing knife though, in the tiny sheath on his forearm.

"You are either the worst bounty hunter in existence, or the unluckiest man in the galaxy," the woman commented coldly, watching him, "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

She was coldly beautiful, like a well crafted dagger. She wore a greenish light armor vest, but Kandon realized it was Echani make, probably fiber armor… which was almost as durable as medium armor, but moved like a second skin. Echani prized agility, but weren't stupid. They knew that sometimes agility wasn't enough.

"I'm not here for any bounty, but I _am_ looking for you, I have a business proposition," Kandon began cautiously. The woman's green eyes sparkled dangerously, "Keep in mind that I'm the one with the blaster pointed at you. Lie to me, and I'll kill you," she said simply.

"Do you know who I am?" Kandon Ark asked calmly.

"Of course. You're wearing Black Vulkar colors," the assassin said calmly.

"I am Kandon Ark. I represent Brejik's interests…" Kandon said slowly.

"You represent your _own_ interests, which coincide with Brejik's," Selven observed.

Kandon nodded, "I concede the point."

"Very well, make your case," the predator purred.

"I want you to kill Gadon Thek," Kandon said calmly.

"You are aware of my… fee?" Selven asked.

"Bring me Gadon's head, and I will pay you _twice_ your normal fee." Kandon assured her.

"Is that all?" Selven asked.

Kandon hesitated, "Last night, the Hidden Beks took something of value from my gang, a swoop bike module. If you retrieve it, in addition to Gadon's head, I'll triple your normal fee," the twi'lek decided.

"In addition to the doubled fee?" Selven asked.

"No. If you only bring me Gadon's head, I will pay double. With Gadon's head _and_ the prototype module, I will pay you triple," Kandon promised quietly.

"I'd like that in writing, if you would," Selven said. Kandon pointed to his datapad, on the nearby cot, "I thought you might. I have a legal copy of the contract on my pad."

Selven tossed it to him, and the man transmitted the record to the assassin's datapad, and used his electronic signature to confirm it.

Selven returned his effects, and went to a nearby foot locker. She withdrew a vibro-sword, slipping it into a sheath on her back, and pulled out a carry-case of reinforced plasteel.

It looked like the only personal possessions she owned.

"You missed my knife," Kandon noted. If she had missed that detail, perhaps she was not quite as capable as her reputation—

Selven tilted her head to the side, "Are you referring to the fifteen centimeter balanced Czerka model throwing knife strapped to your left forearm?" she asked sweetly.

Kandon started laughing, he'd been had. "You're good," he smiled.

"No. I'm the best," Selven replied.

((()))

Malya squinted in the darkness, risking a little more light from the glow-rod Rukil had given her. She saw a skeleton in rags against the far-wall. It was on a ledge above the foul smelling murk. Trask faltered at the edge, and cautiously poked his spear into the foul water. It only came half way up his spear, so the water was only a meter deep. He glanced at her, smiling grimly, "I'm just the sidekick. Ladies first," he said, gesturing mirthlessly for her to go first. She glared at him, and slipped into the disgusting fluid. It came up to her waist, and she shuddered as the cold, slimy sensation traveled up her legs. She held the glow rod above her head like a torch, and steadily began to wade through the abandoned sewage processing pool. It was only seven meters wide… but the shelf seemed much farther away once she began wading…

Trask kept a watchful eye on the girl, and the surrounding area. They hadn't seen any rakghouls, and it was beginning to worry him. Where were they?

He glanced back at Malya, who was half-way to the skeleton. She left little V ripples in her wake, which for some reason worried him… then he saw a second set of ripples move into the glow-rod's light. Trask opened his mouth to shout, but something yanked Malya under the water.

"Malya!" Trask yelled. She was still holding the glow-rod in one hand, which lit up the water a little. Something with too many arms was swarming over her. Trask backpedalled into the entry way, and dropped his pack and spear. Then he sprinted for the dark water and vaulted. He splashed down almost on top of the struggle. Tentacles wrapped around his leg, but he ignored them, instead he grabbed Malya's collar and dragged her head to the surface. She hacked and choked water from her lungs, trying to suck down air at the same time, failing at both. Trask stabbed at the tentacles with his knife, and an eye popped out of the water on a stalk. Trask's knife flashed, and the appendage went flying. Something bellowed under the water, and Trask lost his grip on Malya, who disappeared back into the murk. Trask snarled, and hacked at the tentacles, which refused to retreat. Suddenly, he was under the water too, and he'd lost his knife.

Teeth ripped into his shoulder, stymied somewhat by the crude chainmail. Trask grabbed his second knife, and blindly shoved his arm into the creature's maw, stabbing inside it. Instantly, the coils of tentacles went slack, and Trask flailed to the surface. He choked in air, and looked for Malya. He found her, still holding the glow-rod, and pulled her up to the surface. She wasn't moving or breathing.

"Fierfiek!" Trask screamed, dragging her away, out of the water. He got her up onto dry land, and started pounding on her chest, forcing the water out of her lungs. "_Breathe _damn you!" Trask yelled, pounding on the girl's chest. More water came out of her lungs…

Then she flailed, vomiting up water. Trask held her until she was done shaking and gasping.

Malya clung to him and cried. "Shh…" Trask whispered in her ear, softly, holding her tightly.

"I'm right here…" he promised her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the motionless corpse of the creature, a dianoga, get yanked out of the submerged glow-rod's light by another tentacle… so there was more than one of the monsters…

"We smell _terrible,_" Trask laughed, and the moment broke, both of them unable to keep from laughing hysterically. Her lips found his, and he forgot all about the little sewage monsters. There were more pressing and… urgent… matters at hand, which required Trask's _full_ attention.

((()))

Mission sat with Ada, chattering at the somnolent human girl, about everything and anything, to which she would receive reluctant, monosyllabic answers. Zaalbar sat on a low crate nearby, the guts of several explosives strewn across his work area, (a piece of durasheet on top of two plastic canisters). His huge, clawed hands held two small tools in them, delicately rearranging and wiring the explosives into a single, portable device.

((()))

Trask was lying against the sewer wall, Malya curled in his arms… and he still didn't know how they were going to get the damned journal… until his eyes followed the path of several pipes that spanned the ceiling…

Trask tested the first pipe, experimentally, and it held his weight… so he reluctantly reached forward, grabbing the next pipe. Malya watched apprehensively as the man she'd claimed as her lover slowly moved out over the water, dangling from the pipes that ran along the chamber's low ceiling. The first scare came quickly. A tentacle flailed up from the water, barely missing one of the man's feet. Trask yelped, and pulled his knees up to his chest. The second scare came when he was half-way across, and he couldn't quite reach the next pipe. It was too far… by several centimeters. Frustrated, Trask swung his body back and forth, then let go at the apex of his swing, gaining the necessary distance, but almost losing his grip on the slippery metal. By the time Malya's heart had returned to a normal beat, the young soldier had reached the opposite side of the chamber, and dropped down beside the skeleton. She saw him quickly search through the bones, grabbing several items and shoving them in his pack. He slipped the bag on, and jumped up, scrambling at the wall, barely managing to grab the lowest pipe, moments ahead of exploratory tentacles from the water. He flew over the water, hand over hand, victory on his face. He reached the other side and dropped beside Malya.

With slow reverence, he showed her the contents of his bag. She found a second plastic sealed journal of paper, and on a chain, was a key of some kind.

"There's some kind of data-chip in the prongs of the key," Trask told her.


	5. Chapter 5: Truce

Gadon looked at his assembled gang. At the back, the republic fugitives stood uneasily.

"I could give a rousing speech, but all of you know what the stakes are. If we lose this race… we're done. We'll fight to the bitter end, and it might take Brejik a few months, but he'll kill us.

_If _we lose.

If we _win_... we gain _everything_," Gadon finished quietly, but everyone heard him nonetheless.

"Now get some sleep. I can't have the racers watching my back falling asleep on their swoops tomorrow!" he chuckled.

With a buzz of voices, the gang dispersed. Some went back to their pallets, others relieved their comrades on watch.

((()))

Kyle sat back down on the edge of his pallet, stripped down to his insulated bodyglove, and cleaned the heavy blaster pistol he'd gotten from Larrim, the Bek's excessively optimistic quartermaster. A good commando knows every piece of the equipment he uses… a dead commando does not. His armor (such that it was) he'd already cleaned and stacked at the foot of his pallet. It had lost most of its environmental integrity… but it would still provide decent protection.

"Are you all right?" a voice asked. Kyle glanced over his shoulder. The dancer, Dia, was standing uncertainly in the curtained entrance to what had unofficially become considered the _Republic_ embassy.

"I'm alive," Kyle said tersely, and reassembled the actuator module of the blaster, satisfied with its alignment.

"It's just… when I heard that you'd been shot down…" Dia trailed off.

Kyle said nothing. He couldn't get involved with this woman.

"I was worried," the young woman finished lamely… but she didn't leave. She was still there by the time Kyle finished assembling his new blaster. He set it aside, and sighed, "What do you want from me?" he asked quietly, avoiding her eyes.

"I don't know," Dia said miserably.

Carth froze outside the flap to his crew's "quarters" as he heard voices inside. He recognized both of them, and discretely retreated.

"I'm not… right… for you," Kyle said gently, still not looking her in the eye.

"Maybe that's not what I want!" Dia snapped, startling the commando with her anger.

Kyle folded his arms, "Alright then. What do you want from me?" he repeated, looking her in the eye this time.

"I just…" Dia trailed off, and she felt a tear. She bit back on it angrily,

"I just wanted you to know… I _understand_," she whispered.

"What do you understand?" Kyle asked.

"Something broke you too. I just want to say, I understand," Dia spun and left.

Kyle watched the curtain swing back down into place, and shook his head, she didn't understand. She thought she did… but she was wrong. Ricki had understood… but Ricki was dead… he'd been dead for months.

Now, Kyle was the only one left that had been there, on that day, that _knew_.

((()))

Gadon settled down on his pallet stiffly. He wasn't old, not really, but no one was meant to sleep on a thin mattress. Kaeira settled down beside him.

"It will be fine," Kaeira said, correctly guessing the reason for Gadon's restlessness.

"I'm going to lose people tomorrow," Gadon said gruffly.

"Probably," his second agreed.

"Maybe… maybe I could convince Brejik… change his mind…" Gadon said suddenly.

"Gadon. Brejik's not a boy anymore. He made his choices, and they don't include you anymore. He's not your son," Kaeira said firmly.

Gadon knew she was right, but he still remembered the first time he laid eyes on Brejik. The boy had been only four, digging through a waste receptacle, looking for food. Gadon could count the boy's ribs.

"He'll always be my little boy," Gadon sighed.

"That Brejik is dead. Gadon… we may be forced to kill him, tomorrow," Kaeira said.

Gadon knew, one way or another, everything would be different after tomorrow.

Kaeira listened as Gadon's breathing slowly deepened, and he slipped off to sleep. His adopted son might be dead to Gadon...

But Gadon had, _another_ child. Kaeira held her stomach, and could barely feel a bump against her palm, marking the new life inside her. She wouldn't tell him, not yet. He'd forbid her from the race, even though she was one of his better riders. She _had_ to be there tomorrow, to watch his back.

((()))

It had not been easy for Selven to locate her target. The Hidden Beks were superbly… _concealed_. She climbed through the support struts of the warehouse. Below her, shipping containers, left over before the warehouse was abandoned, had been renovated into quarters. Planks and ramps connected the multi-tiered stacks of containers, forming a complex, interconnected warren… a sniper's nightmare.

The woman coldly appraised the best approach on the location, where a handful of technicians were installing a device on a swoop bike. She tapped a stud on her headset, and the holographic HUD that covered her right eye zoomed in, enhancing her image of the bike. She compared the image of the device to the image Kandon Ark had given her. They looked identical.

There was no way to discretely retrieve said device though. Besides, she needed to find her _primary_ target first. She scanned the faces of the gang members below, her headset using facial recognition to identify who she was looking at. It cost almost as much as her custom verpine shatter rifle… but was extremely useful.

**REPUBLIC FUGITIVE: Carth Onasi, captain**

Flashed across her HUD, highlighting the outline of one man, who continued to walk towards her, then ducked into a cargo container. A plan began to form…

((()))

Carth sat down at his "desk" and flipped through the report Gadon had given him.

He saw that Sgt. Draven was tossing on his pallet, muttering.

With a gasp, the commando woke, staring around, blearily.

"More nightmares?" Carth asked casually.

"Maybe…" Kyle said, filled with a desperate energy. He started pulling his armor on.

"Expecting trouble?"

"I don't know, sir. Something feels… wrong," Kyle said.

"What do you mean?" Carth asked.

"I don't know… it feels like I missed something. Something important," Kyle said. He slipped his sidearm into the holster on his thigh, and ducked out of the container, helmet under his arm. He'd patrol the perimeter. It might help him relax.

Discretely, Carth followed him. Kyle looked around, his face oddly disturbed. He cocked his head, as if listening to faint but familiar strands of music.

Something was wrong. Kyle felt… strange… like he was hearing an after echo, in addition to his normal hearing. It almost reminded him of a flashbang, when the ears begin to return to normal… then his stomach twisted, and he felt fear.

"Everybody down!" Kyle shouted, not knowing _why_, but knowing that he _must_, jamming his helmet on.

The door to the warehouse blew open from a breach charge, and blaster fire streamed in.

The Aqualish standing guard took the full brunt of it, and collapsed against the wall, staring stupidly at the blaster shots in his chest.

Kyle returned fire from behind a crate, blindly shooting into the swirling dust.

"Evac!" Kyle roared, dragging the wounded Bek back into cover.

((()))

Gadon surged to his feet, as screams and blaster fire filled the warehouse. His people were under attack. He slept in his body armor. It was light weight mesh polymers, with a more heavily armored vest, which only took him a couple seconds to struggle into. He snatched his gun belt off a crate, snapping it on, as Zaedra ducked into the container.

"Gadon, we've got Sith. They're rushing in through the main entrance," the woman said grimly.

"Pull everyone out, we'll regroup at point alpha," Gadon snapped.

_Hell of a time for the Sith to start taking us seriously… unless they're here for our allies…_ Gadon thought darkly.

((()))

Kyle hugged a supply container, as a sith trooper, more aggressive than intelligent, rushed by. The commando snared the man, and yanked him back, stabbing his knife into the armored joint between the light weight plates at the base of the neck. The man was dead, instantly. Kyle grabbed the Sith issue blaster rifle, and hastily sheathed his blade. He didn't have time to clean the blood from it. Kyle ripped the man's equipment belt off, slinging it over his shoulder like a bandoleer.

In the confusion, no one noticed the man's death. Several Sith combat droids clanked around the corner, and Kyle opened fire, caught in the open. One of the droids exploded from a lucky shot to a capacitor, but the others did not slow, returning fire. Kyle yanked the dead trooper up, using his body as a shield. A handful of Beks fired at the droids from the openings of containers, taking down a handful, but the core of the group refused to yield. It wasn't in their programming.

((()))

"Let's move it people!" Gadon shouted. Beks streamed past him. At the center of the warehouse, the Beks had converted a garbage chute into something that could convey sentient creatures quickly, to another building, nearly sixteen levels down, and over three hundred meters away. That building was abandoned as well, but hopefully, would be far enough away to allow the Beks to escape.

Unfortunately, the chute was only large enough for the Beks to escape one at a time, with a four second delay between each gang member, to prevent pile ups at the end.

He saw the republic soldiers trickle into his group.

"Where's the accelerator?" Captain Onasi demanded.

"It'll take longer to disengage it from the bike than to simply finish installing it!" Gadon shouted over the noise, pointing to where his mechanics were still working on the bike.

A nikto fell back from the barricade, his head missing.

"Heavy ordnance!" the commando shouted belatedly.

"They've got assault droids!" someone shouted in terror.

Assault droids looked very similar to a beast of burden. Each had four articulated legs that conveyed a beetle like body into battle. A pair of heavy laser cannons, stacked on top of each other, was hard mounted into the assault droid's body, resembling a beak or proboscis. They were designed to engage enemy armored elements, specifically hover tanks and fortified positions. Thankfully, their programming was both slow, and stupid.

"We need more time!" Gadon shouted. Nearly half of his gang had escaped down the chute. The rest were still trickling into the shaft. Zaalbar roared, pulling the explosive he'd been working on out of his satchel, and held it out to the commando. There were still a few loose wires trailing off the device, but Kyle ignored his misgivings.

Carth ejected the spent powerpack from his blaster, fishing another from his belt.

The assault droid was having difficulty maneuvering among the cargo containers, its size limiting its maneuverability, but it wasn't large enough to push the containers aside, either. He spotted Kyle, who darted under the assault droid, disappearing down another aisle, before the infantry droids could target him. Then an explosion rocked the warehouse.

((()))

Selven slid down her grapple line, out of sight, and slipped into the shrinking group of Hidden beks. In the excitement, none of the fools realized she wasn't a familiar face.

"We've got it!" the tech's cried, closing the housing of the swoop bike.

That was Selven's cue.

Zaedra had been watching the stranger for several minutes, out of the corner of her eye. When the techs yelled, suddenly, the infiltrator started forward, as if to join the fighting… but angled to pass near Gadon.

Only a handful of Beks were still by the swoops. The rest were dead, or down the chute. Tactically, Gadon was at his most vulnerable.

The newcomer drew a vibro-sword from her back, and whipped it at Gadon's neck… but Zaedra was already in motion. She tackled Gadon, and the attack missed. Zaedra rolled as she hit, and snapped off a half-dozen shots, which hit the assassin square in the chest, throwing her onto her back… but she rolled to her feet. The element of surprise gone, the assassin leapt forward, and nearly killed Zaedra… except a big man shot the assassin with a blaster, staggering the assassin. He didn't look like a Bek.

Annoyed, Selven twirled, her blade cutting through his blaster, taking several fingers as well. He howled, and Selven made another run at Gadon. This time, the gang leader was ready, drawing a vibro-blade from his belt. She swept her sword at his neck again, and at the last second, a green plane of energy flared to life on Gadon's arm, and he deflected her charge with an energy shield, his own strike missing as well. The big man grabbed Selven, and tried to crush her. She reversed her grip on the vibro-sword, and stabbed it behind her, through her attacker's rib-cage. He released her.

"Grigs!" Carth shouted, as his crewman slumped to his knees, gasping wetly, drowning on his own blood. Zaedra leapt back into the fray, scoring a strike on the assassin with her own vibro-blade, leaving a shallow trail of blood down one arm. That's when a large, furry arm caught hold of the assassin's weapon hand. There was a crunch of bone, and the assassin screamed, her hand a mangled mess. Then Zaalbar disarmed her. Literally.

Gadon threw a leg over the prototype, and engaged the engine. Zaedra and Kaeira took the normal swoops on either side of him, also engaging their engines.

"Lets go!" Gadon roared, blasting off from the ground.

((()))

Kyle stuffed Grigs down the shaft. "Wrackers, get in there!" he shouted, hauling the ensign by the back of her tunic and shoved her into the opening as well. The captain jumped into the shaft, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Kyle followed behind his captain. The surface of the chute had a friction reducing coating… combined with the naturally low-friction plastoid armor… meant Kyle started moving very quickly on the forty-five degree downward slope. It only took ten seconds to reach the bottom, slowed by a pool of rancid water. He thrashed and waded to the side, narrowly avoiding Zaalbar.

"Are you the last one out?" Kyle asked.

Zaalbar barked an affirmative. The sound of an explosion rumbled down the shaft, but none of it reached the pool.

_((I detonated a plasma grenade in the shaft entrance. The hatch is fused))_ Zaalbar told Kyle.

Carth was calling orders, organizing the Beks in Gadon's absence.

"How is he?" Kyle shouted to Carth.

Zelka Forn, the outlaw doctor, was crouched over the big crewman, but he shook his head, "His injuries are too severe. Even with proper medical supplies, I doubt I could save this man."

The doctor had a single med kit, and dozens of injured. He moved on, looking for those he could still save.

"You're going to be fine," Daniele lied, clutching Grigs hand. The giant smirked, painfully, and mouthed: _liar_.

((()))

Gadon climbed off his swoop, and looked at his people. They were hurt, exhausted, but more importantly, they were _angry_. Anger was good. Better than despair. Much more useful.

"Phirdan, how's the bike?" Gadon asked. The aqualish mechanic looked up from his diagnostics, _((the left stabilizer wasn't properly aligned before you activated the engine. There's been some damage to the accelerator making it unstable… but I think I can fix it))_.

"Define, _unstable_," Gadon asked.

_((I don't know. It may lock up the engine, causing the bike to stall… it might simply fail, preventing the bike from accelerating… or it might overload the engine, causing it to explode))._

"We've got six hours before the race. Do what you can," Gadon barked. The alien nodded glumly, and got to work.

"Anglu," Gadon called, getting the attention of the twi'lek female. She looked up from her maintenance of _her_ bike, startled.

"Yes, boss?" she asked.

"Change of plans. I want you on _your_ swoop for the race."

"Not the prototype?"

"No. Phirdan says it might not work, so I want my best rider on a swoop I know will work. I'll take the prototype," Gadon said.

"No offense, boss, but your eyes ain't what they used to be," the young woman said bluntly.

"Just the same. I'll be flying," Gadon said firmly.

"Is Kaeira still flying the third bike?" Anglu asked.

"Yes. She's still my second best rider," Gadon replied. _Although she'd never admit it to Anglu. _

((()))

Carth sat down with Kyle, "What have you got?"

Kyle turned the datapad around, so the captain could see it.

"I've mapped the stadium. This is the announcer's platform. To prove he actually has Bastila, she will have to be presented, in person."

"So we grab her," Carth said eagerly.

"No sir," Kyle said firmly.

"Why?"

"They will be expecting that. Also, the members of the_ other_ gangs will try to stop us, not just the Vulkars. Remember, she's the prize, and they _all_ want the chance to win her," Kyle reminded him.

"Alright, so what do we do, hope Brejik will keep his word?" Carth asked.

"They probably won't keep Bastila out in the open for long. After presenting her, she'll probably be taken to a secured site for the duration of the race," Kyle said.

"So we hit them while they're moving?" Carth suggested. He was a naval captain, and an ex-fighter pilot. He wasn't a ground-pounder.

"Risky. There's a high chance of accidentally killing Bastila," Kyle said.

"What do you suggest then?"

"Well, I did have an idea…" Kyle said, a slow smirk blossoming on his lips.

Carth liked the plan.

((()))

Trask and Malya hurried through the gloom. Behind them, Trask could hear the furtive movements of rakghouls. "There, the short cut," Malya hissed, pointing at a thick pipe that spanned an artificial canyon. Trask was looking at it from a soldier's stand point though. It was highly defensible… "Don't look back, just run!" Trask said, coming to a stop at the middle of the pipe. Mayla paused to argue, but Trask slapped her hand off his shoulder, "Run, damn it… just run." He rolled his stiff shoulders, and watched the shambling shapes draw closer to the end of the pipe. He spun his spear a few times, loosening up, as his woman bit back tears, and abandoned him. Trask always knew he would die alone.

Trask laughed to himself. It was funny, he thought. His mother had left Alderaan, to visit family on the outer rim. The mandalorians had come, and given his mother a choice, resist and die, or join and live… but his father… his father had joined, only to have a change of heart, and decide to resist, forcing his mother's hand. Now, Trask had returned to the outer rim, where he'd been conceived… and _now_, where he would die. So many homes, so many paths, but only one destination.

Then the rakghouls were upon him, and Trask had no time for introspection, aside from echani poetry… and the echani do not speak in words.

((()))

Bastilla was vaguely aware of her surroundings. She sensed a great swarm of life, many sentient beings in close proximity to each other… but she still couldn't see. Not yet, anyway. Rough hands held her upright, and a great voice spoke nearby, too loud to understand.

Brejik signaled Kandon, who nodded.

"Mount up!" he shouted, as the Republic officer was loaded back into the speeder.

Kandon took a seat next to the comatose woman, while a human Vulkar took shotgun in the front passenger seat, and another slid behind the controls. A dozen other Vulkars took up escort positions around the speeder, their swoop bikes actually staying _mostly _in formation, as the horn blared, and the racers took off behind Brejik.

Gadon pushed down hard on the stud under his foot, and the swoop shot ahead of Redros, one of Brejik's riders. The nikto tried to sideswipe Gadon, but the older flier easily avoided the maneuver, gaining another meter on his rival. Gadon still hadn't activated the accelerator module. Kaeira was several lengths behind them, and Gadon knew she'd done so on purpose. Anglu was actually ahead of the pack, and shot down into a utility lane, part of the course. More bikes followed, and the crowded tunnel became _very_ dangerous.

((()))

Trask grunted, and swung his spear like a staff, catching the ankles of his foe, and sent the monster plummeting. He had lost count. That irritated him. He spun the staff, redirecting the next rakghoul's charge off the pipe, and into empty air, without wasting any of his own energy. This was a marathon, not a sprint. Trask let the butte of the spear fall against a hole in the pipe, bracing the spear for the brief moment needed to skewer two rakghouls that had clustered too close. Trask twisted, and kicked them off the spear, ready for the next group to arrive. He was panting, but not yet tired.

((()))

Gadon rotated the lever, and the swoop shuddered strangely under him. _It's going to explode,_ Gadon thought. Then he was clinging to the handle bars, the swoop threatening to fly out from under him. Redros had a fifty-meter lead on him. This was the straight away, before the finish line, which was still two kilometers distant. Three seconds later, Redros _had no_ lead. Gadon was well ahead of the others, but now he had a new concern. The bike was shuddering under him, and squealing horribly. The gang-leader tried to disengage the accelerator, but it wasn't responding… and the engine was smoking now. The bike began to lose altitude, as well as speed. Gadon glanced back, and saw Redros, a hundred meters back, and closing. Kaeira was close on his tail. Gadon looked forward. He used every trick he knew to coax the failing bike onward… he could hear Redros behind him now, but the finish line, it was _right_ there.

Three hundred meters.

Two hundred.

One hundred. Gadon could see the forward control vane of Redros's swoop in the corner of his vision.

Fifty.

Ten.

Gadon's swoop crossed the sensor net a half second before Redros.

_We won_.

Fire erupted from the swoop bike, catching Gadon's fire retardant jumpsuit on fire.

"Gadon!" Kaeira screamed, smashing her swoop sideways into his. He let go of his bike, and grabbed the drag handle of her swoop. She peeled away from the riderless swoop, which continued another hundred meters, then exploded in mid air. Gadon was more concerned with his precarious hold. He was hanging off the side of her bike, and the thermal exhaust port was only ten centimeters over. It felt like his left arm was being cooked, even through the insulation of his racing suit. The alternative was a very long drop… Gadon held on.

((()))

Trask screamed, as the teeth bit down on his forearm, and the warrior lost hold of his spear. Trask yanked out his knife, and slit the monster's throat, kicking it off him. _Bad. Made a mistake_, Trask winced. More rakghouls were coming. Too many more. Then a rock flashed past him, cracking into one of the rakghouls, causing it to stumble and fall from the pipe. Trask looked behind him, and his heart clenched in terror. Malya had returned. She scrambled out onto the pipe, and stood behind him, stabbing with her spear under his arm, while he slashed with his knife.

Rakghouls died… Trask bled, and Malya killed.

The last rakghoul, the alpha, was also the largest. It knocked the spear from Malya's hands, and knocked Trask over, as it pounced on the girl, claws rending and tearing, but the thick pack protected her, for a moment, as they slipped off the pipe. Trask grabbed the girl with his good hand, and they hung suspended on opposite sides of the pipe, the rakghoul clinging to the pack, attempting to get its claws into something that could bleed. Trask looked into his lover's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, before his knife flashed…

And the straps of her pack parted.

The rakghoul fell, screeching, still clinging to the pack… and its precious cargo.

((()))

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the winner of this year's swoop race!" the announcer said. The fans applauded in the stands.

"Through your skill and courage you have proven yourself the premier swoop rider on Taris, and brought great glory to the Hidden Bek gang!"

Brejik was pushing his way through the milling Vulkars, heading for the announcer.

"Ah, here to present the champion's prize: Brejik, leader of the Black Vulkars," the announcer said.

Brejik snatched the comlink away from the announcer, "People! Hear me!"

His voice filled the stadium.

"The Hidden Beks cheated! They used a prototype accelerator, clearly an unfair advantage! Because of this treachery, the Vulkars are withdrawing their share of the prize!"

((()))

"Brejik. We won. Honor your word," Gadon told his adopted son sharply.

All eyes turned to the young gang leader.

His face was twitching in hatred and disbelief. Finally he spat, "Never!"

The announcer, a gray skinned duros approached, "You cannot withdraw your prize! The traditions—"

Brejik shot the announcer in the face.

"Fool! I care nothing for your traditions! I am the wave of the future! Vulkars, to me! Kill them! Kill them all!"

Brejik had lost control.

"Beks! To me!" Gadon roared, his vibro-blade flashing from his sleeve, spilling the life blood of a Vulkar that charged him.

Most of the unaligned gangs simply scattered, trying to get out of the way.

"Captain!" Daniele shouted, shooting a punk in Vulkar colors, who had tried to stab Carth in the back. This wasn't a battle, it was a cantina brawl with deadly weapons.

The two republic soldiers went back to back, trying to stay alive. Unfortunately, she didn't see the rodian with the knife.

((()))

Bastila felt the Force flood into her, and suddenly, the neural disruptor didn't matter. She opened her eyes. Two rodians sat at a nearby table, playing some kind of card game. She focused on the blaster in the holster closest to her. She felt for the firing stud, and with a monumental effort, managed to pull the trigger. Nothing happened.

_It's on safety_. Exhausted, she searched for the safety.

The door slid open, and a third man walked into the room, also wearing gang colors similar to the rodians.

Three against one. She could still do this. The man looked at her, the top half of his face concealed by a swoop rider's goggles.

Then the blaster was in his hand, and he closed the door to the room. The rodians were dead a moment later.

She watched him approach, and stopped just short of her, examining the neural disruptor around her neck. He pulled something from his belt, it looked like a stylus, and touched it to the collar. Bastila sagged, as the presence of the collar vanished.

Then she threw the man against the wall, and pinned him there with the Force.

Bastila glared at the man, and called his blaster to her hand.

"Why did you free me!" she growled.

"It's my job," the man said, having difficulty breathing.

"Your… job…" Bastila echoed skeptically.

"Sergeant Kyle Draven, RC-139045," the man gasped.

Bastila ripped the goggles off the man with a flick of her finger, recognizing him.

"Sergeant," Bastila said, startled, releasing her hold on him. He dropped to the floor awkwardly.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Rescuing you, sir," Draven wheezed.

"I had the situation well in hand!" Bastila snapped.

"Yes, sir," Kyle agreed, making it sound like: _respectfully you're an idiot, sir_.

Bastila felt color returning to her cheeks… and realized that she was not wearing the most modest of clothing.

"Mission, what do you see?" Draven asked, holding a comlink.

"Uh… you've got guys coming down the hallway. They don't look happy," a feminine voice crackled.

"Understood." Draven slipped the comlink into his jacket, and used his stylus on the door panel. It sparked and shorted, freezing the motor. They'd have to cut through the door.

"You've just trapped us, sergeant," Bastila sighed.

"No ma'am," Draven said, gesturing for her to stand against the door. He hit a switch on his com-link, and there was a staccato of tiny pops. Dust billowed from the far wall, in a rough triangle.

"What was that?" Bastila asked, as the commando enthusiastically kicked at the triangle.

"Precision micro-charges. I wired them in sequence before coming in here," Draven explained, and the duracrete section started crumbled under his blows.

"Allow me," Bastila said, blasting the weakened section away completely with careful application of the Force.

"Appreciated sir."

Bastila followed the disguised man through the halls of what appeared to have once been a waste processing center. They came across other Vulkars, but between her Force powers, and her soldier's blaster, they experienced no serious resistance.

"We're at the extraction point," Draven said into his comlink.

"Gotcha."

"Where is the exit?" Bastila asked, confused. She saw no windows or doors, only a…

The garbage flue groaned open, revealing only darkness.

"No. I refuse," Bastila said, backing away from the stench that had begun to waft from the hole.

"She's kind of a baby," the comlink chirped.

"Mission…" Draven sighed.

"Who is that?" Bastila demanded.

"Don't tell her!" the voice said.

"Sergeant, who is on that comlink?" Bastila demanded.

"Follow me, and you'll find out, sir," Draven said, ducking into the garbage flue.

_There is no emotion. There is peace_. Bastila snarled under her breath, and followed the commando into the darkness. She didn't have shoes.

The flue closed behind them, and a glow-rod snapped to life. Bastila tried to ignore the slimy texture of what she was walking on.

"Uh, sir, you might… want to get on my back," the commando realized uncomfortably, flicking his light down to her bare legs and feet.

"That is an excellent idea," Bastila said, scrambling onto him, and _off_ the unmentionable detritus under foot.

"You're _carrying _her?" the comlink squawked, incredulous.

"Not now, Mission," Draven grunted, hurrying through the passage. It was as tall as a wookiee, and as wide.

"You wouldn't carry _me_," the voice complained.

((()))

Gadon blocked a strike from his son's vibro-blade, and grabbed Brejik's wrist, forcing the weapon to the side, and hammered it against a pillar.

Brejik punched him in the jaw.

Gadon staggered back.

"You're getting slow, old man," Brejik taunted.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Gadon urged softly.

"Yes it does! You humiliated me in front of the entire gang!" Brejik attacked wildly, and Gadon scrambled to keep the blade from finding him.

"You weren't ready!" Gadon roared.

"I'm twenty-four! Face it, as long as you're alive, you'll _never_ let me lead the Beks!" Brejik howled.

"Brejik, _help me_, we can drive the Sith off Taris, just like the Mandalorians!" Gadon pleaded.

"If it's not the Sith, it'll be someone else. Besides, what do we owe the Upper City? After the mandalorian wars, they stopped praising us, and started spitting on us, just like before! Let the Sith _have_ the Upper City!" Brejik shouted. He kicked Gadon in the left knee, knowing full well that Gadon had weakened that joint after an injury in the Mandalorian Wars… saving Brejik's life. Gadon's leg buckled.

"Just die!" Brejik shouted, and raised his blade to stab his father. In the melee around them, a blaster fired. A deep, throaty sound that Gadon recognized. The scarlet bolt hit Brejik above his armored vest, right in the throat. Nonplussed, Brejik's mouth kept moving, as he tried to speak. His blade fell from nerveless hands, and the young upstart collapsed. Gadon crawled to his son, heedless of his useless leg, and pulled Brejik into his arms, "Brejik… Brejik, I'm here," Gadon whispered. His son's eyes were frightened, and pleading, just like they had been twenty years ago.

He mouthed something, but Gadon couldn't understand, so he said, "I love you, son." Brejik trembled and gasped, but Gadon held him tighter, and when the convulsions stopped, Brejik Thek was dead.

And then a man who had seen nearly fifty years of war and back alley brutality began to cry.

Carth came to stand next to Gadon, and holstered his blaster. The Vulkars, upon seeing their leader dead, began to flee, or surrender.

"I'm sorry, Gadon," Carth said.

"So am I," Gadon choked.

"He was going to kill you," Captain Onasi reminded him.

"I know."

Then the republic captain retreated, and left the gang-leader with his son.

"Mission, update on the commander?" Carth demanded.

"Hey Carth, they're almost out of the garbage network," Mission said cheerily, her voice at odds with the dead faces on the ground around him. Carth had eyes only for one though. The captain gently closed Danielle Wrackers frightened eyes. So young. So _damned young_, Carth thought bitterly.

((()))

Kyle carried his commander through knee deep sludge, and yearned desperately for his armor, instead of the cloth disguise he wore. Hell, it still smelled like the Nikto he'd stripped it from.

"If I'm going to figure out a way to get us off this planet, I need to know what kind of resources we have," the Jedi said.

"First, are we the only two survivors from the Endar Spire?"

"No sir. Captain Onasi, and crewman Wrackers are also planet side."

"Carth Onasi is alive?" Bastila asked, relieved.

"That's the first piece of good news I've heard," Bastila smiled.

"What else do we have?" she probed.

"We have an alliance with the Hidden Bek swoop gang. They were instrumental in this rescue," the commando answered.

"Sergeant…"

"Oh, sorry sir. I meant _rendezvous_."

"Not that. You put your trust in the criminal element?" Bastila chided.

"Respectfully, sir, the Hidden Beks were part of the Tarisian resistance during the Mandalorian wars, and they've reformed that resistance, this time against the Sith occupation… and their leader, Gadon Thek, he's a good man," Draven said defensively.

They fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Uncomfortable for Bastila, at any rate.

Kyle simply didn't notice.

((()))

"It's all gone…" Malya whispered, as her lover pulled her along.

"So what?" Trask demanded roughly, shocking her.

"That was our salvation! The rest of the tribe could have found Paradise!" Malya said, hearing tears in her voice.

Trask spun around, flipping his mask up, and his silver eyes were filled with a fire that took her breath away.

"Shaleena would want her sister more than a Paradise… and so would I," he said, his voice taut with anger. "Besides, a world where every need is met for you is not a Paradise… it is a prison. Without struggle, we atrophy and stagnate. Paradise is a trap," Trask snarled, when Malya looked unmoved. Trask grabbed her collar and pulled her close, since words were insufficient.

((()))

The republic fugitives sprinted across the duracrete out, in the open.

"Mission, get the speeder ready!" Kyle shouted into the comlink.

"Uh, just a minute!" Mission stammered.

Vulkars spilled out of the facility, firing at the fleeing couple.

They reached the speeder, and found Mission elbows deep in the circuits.

"Mission!" Kyle snapped, what was she _doing?!_

"_This_ is Mission?" Bastila asked, surprised. A twi'lek child?

"I bypassed their security lock-out, but they had a second _layer_," Mission wailed, wrestling with a data cable.

"It alerted the system, and now I have to directly hack the central processor!"

"Mission!" Kyle growled.

"It's not my fault!" Mission protested.

Blaster shots slammed into the body panel of the speeder, and Kyle returned fire. He _really_ wanted his armor.

They were trapped.

A swoop bike howled overhead, and came to a skidding halt.

_Enemy reinforcements?_ Kyle looked over, and his heart stopped.

A mandalorian in desert motif armor clambered off the bike, and pulled a heavy repeating blaster off magnetic attachment racks. He strolled towards the speeder. Occasional blaster bolts from the Vulkars slapped against his armor plates like water, hardly seeming to bother him.

Kyle remembered how tough it was to kill Mandalorians… you had to aim for the throat, and when they charged, the warriors tended to lower their chins, which protected that particular weak spot.

"_Su'cuy!"_ the man barked. _((Hey))_.

"Uh…" Kyle was at a loss for words.

The man nodded towards the Vulkars, who were still running towards them, although the few of them with more than two brain cells had begun to slow, and reverse direction upon seeing the size of the newcomer's weapon.

"_Copaani gaan?" ((Need a hand?))_

Kyle nodded, "_Gedet'ye,"_ he said. _((please))._

"That's good," the mandalorian chuckled, "I need to kill _something_,"

The heavy weapon in his hands whined, and suddenly a torrent of white-gold darts erupted from the end. The mandalorian hosed the stream across the line of charging Vulkars, and Kyle was back in the Mandalorian wars, seeing a Republic charge from the Mandalorian perspective. Two passes, and there wasn't anything moving.

"Oh… I missed that!" the big man sighed happily. He turned to look at the three _aruetii_ (non-mandalorians) in the speeder.

"You just going to sit there?"

Kyle closed his mouth, "Mission, how's it coming?"

"I'm, uh, I'm finished," the girl said.

"Then move over," Kyle said roughly, holstering his blaster.

"Let's get moving!" the mandalorian said, jogging back to his swoop bike.

"Eww! Be careful with your boots!" Mission squealed, shrinking back from the rancid sludge. Kyle ignored her as he engaged the speeder's drive core, and they rose from the duracrete landing platform. It's not like this was _his_ speeder.

The swoop rose up beside them, and the mandalorian signaled Kyle to follow him.

"That was a Mandalorian," Bastila observed, shaken.

"Yes, ma'am," Kyle said grimly.

"A helpful, Mandalorian," Bastila continued.

"So it would appear, sir," Kyle agreed.

"Let us hope he remains in a helpful mood," Bastila said.

Silently, Kyle heartily agreed. He'd been on the wrong end of their blasters too many times already.

((()))

The swoop settled under a causeway. Traffic shot past underneath, but their position was relatively secluded, and out of sight.

The mandalorian left his heavy weapon on the swoop, but Kyle knew the man probably had several concealed weapons, in addition to the vibro-sword on his back, and the blaster on his thigh.

"So, you're the _jettai?_" the mando cocked his head, appraising Bastila.

"No _jettai'kad?_" he mocked.

"What?" Bastila asked.

"No lightsaber," Kyle answered.

"I like you," the man said, pointing at Kyle, "You've the look of a warrior about you, not like these local dead beats, or the princess over there," he sneered.

Bastila ignored the man's barbs.

"What do you want, mandalorian?" she asked, keeping her voice as calm as possible.

"I saw you kill the Vulkar whose clothes you're wearing. Very impressive. You seemed to me like someone who can get results," the mandalorian said, ignoring Bastila.

"That's _just_ the kind of person I'm looking for."

"Who are you?" Kyle asked cautiously.

"My name's Canderous Ordo."

Kyle's face blanched, and the man chuckled, "You've heard of me,"

"I was at Sernpidal," Draven said quietly.

"Oh… so you _have_ heard of _me_," the mandalorian sighed wistfully.

"A lot of my comrades died there," Draven said.

"It was a glorious battle…" the mandalorian agreed.

"Did this conversation have a _point?_" Bastila asked frostily, unused to being… ignored.

"Pushy thing, isn't she?"

"You work for Davik now," Kyle observed.

"That's right. Davik promised me a fortune to work for him, but lately… he hasn't been paying me what he promised," the mandalorian said.

"How materialistic of you," Bastila hissed.

"I don't like being cheated," Canderous said sharply, "and I've been here a year, cracking the skulls of low-lifes and kicking in doors of deadbeats… not exactly glorious. I figure, it's time to break the Sith quarantine, and get off this planet."

"How would you do it?" Kyle asked.

The mandalorian laughed, "I've got a plan to escape Taris. I've worked out most of the wrinkles in it too… but I need someone to help me, someone I know can get the job done. Someone… like _you_."

"I'm just a soldier," Kyle said.

"_Ossik_," _((bullshit))_

"I saw how you killed that Vulkar. The only people I've ever seen kill that way were commandos. Aside from some of the _jettai_, commandos were the only warriors the Republic had worthy of respect."

"Beware his honeyed words. He is a mercenary, and they cannot be trusted," Bastila whispered.

"I ain't talking to you. I'm talking to your _friend_, aren't I?" the mando said levelly.

"What's this plan?" Draven asked.

"As I watched you kill that man only a meter away from his comrades, and put on his clothes, I thought to myself: Canderous, there's a man with _gett'se ((guts/balls))._ If he can pull that off, he can probably pull off a theft from the Sith military base…"

"And what's in this base that's so valuable?" Bastila asked.

Kyle could almost taste the merc's annoyance, "The Sith have automated defense guns all over the planet. Any ship trying to leave atmosphere will be annihilated… unless they have the launch codes."

"So if I get the codes… you have a ship?" Kyle asked.

"Something like that."

"I thought all ships had been seized or impounded," Mission said, confused.

"Not all of them," the merc chuckled.

"Did you have a plan to break into the base?" Draven asked.

"It won't be easy. The base is protected by an encrypted security system,"

"I can hack it!" Mission spoke up, excited by the possibility of breaking into _another _computer system.

"Not this one, kid, it would take a top of the line _specialist _droid to slice through it," the merc said.

Kyle and Mission exchanged glances, "We don't have—"

"_I know_ where to find a droid _just_ like that," the merc interrupted, "Davik was having one custom built by Janice Nall, just tell her _Canderous sent you_. She'll sell you the droid, and it'll get you into the Sith base."

"Why can't you steal the Sith codes?" Mission asked.

"Normally I would, but everyone knows who I work for. It wouldn't take the Sith long to kick down Davik's door, and then they've got the launch codes back," Canderous told the twi'lek patiently.

"I don't trust him… but I don't sense any deception from him either," Bastila said, conflicted.

The mandalorian handed Kyle a comlink, "Contact me when you have the codes, and I'll meet you in Jahvyar's cantina." Kyle nodded and started up the engine.

"_Ret'urcye mhi_," the mandalorian said. _((good bye / maybe we'll meet again))_

Kyle nodded, "_Ret'urcye mhi._"

As Draven nudged into the flow of traffic, Bastila looked at the commando, "So, sergeant… where did you learn mandalorian?" she asked.

"It's _mando'a_, actually, sir… and I'm not fluent," Kyle said uncomfortably.

"Where did you learn it though?" the jedi asked, a slight edge to her voice.

"On missions, we couldn't take protocol droids with us, and the enemy didn't speak Basic over their comlines. You had to learn it, or at least, know enough to get by."

"I see…" Bastila murmured, relaxing. Kyle wondered why his knowledge had made her so nervous.

"That, _or_ he's a mandalorian in disguise," Mission gasped theatrically.

"Where's my armor?" Kyle asked the girl, maneuvering around a slow cargo-truck.

"You're pretty attached to that plastoid stuff," Mission responded.

"It's not _beskar'gam_, though," Kyle replied.

"_Beskar'gam?_" Mission asked.

"It literally translates as _iron skin_, the mandalorians view their armor as a part of themselves," Kyle explained.

"And that means…" Mission prodded.

"That hitting their camps at night isn't any easier than during the day. They tend to sleep in full armor," Kyle said softly, remembering the night his detachment had learned that the hard way. Only Ricki and he had survived that engagement. Two hundred republic troopers, and forty-eight republic commandos had not.

They'd only managed to kill thirty-four mandalorians.

It had been a _victory_, command told him, before they promoted him for surviving that _frelling_ fiasco.

They should have promoted Ricki. He was the one who carried Kyle forty-seven kilometers back to the RV point, through swamps and quicksand, filled with some of the nastier predatory species in the galaxy, while being hunted by the surviving mandalorians from the camp. But Ricki was a Devaronian, so Kyle was the one promoted.

((()))

"Ah, apprentice, you have returned!" Rukil said, excited. Mayla stared at Rukil hollowly, and her mouth opened… but no words came out. How could she explain that… that she had failed so _completely?_

"The journals were destroyed," Trask said.

Rukil frowned, and his expression crumbled, "But… _why?_"

"Because we don't need them. We create our own Paradise," Trask said.

The old man was silent for a long time. "Leave me. Please," he whispered.

"Master…" Malya choked.

"Leave me!" Rukil shouted, and the pair stumbled from the tent hastily. They could hear soft sobs that faded as their distance increased. Rukil did not rise from his pallet again, and departed to explore the Final Dark… perhaps the only place left for him in his search for Paradise.

((()))

Carth looked up as the door to the temporary hideout opened. A man wearing Vulkar colors stepped inside, which made the Bek lookout _very _jumpy. With him though was a twi'lek urchin, and a woman wearing attire that could charitably be considered _brief_.

"Commander!" he said, a smile lighting up his face.

"Ah, captain. I see the sergeant did not exaggerate," Bastila commented. She looked at Kyle pointedly, and after a moment, the commando passed his Vulkar jacket to her, and she quickly wrapped it around herself.

"I assume you'd like actual clothes, sir?" Carth said, grinning.

"That would be appreciated, captain. There seems to be a draft in this building," Bastila replied. A handful of Beks watched the woman escorted down the hallway with curiosity, seeing the Republic officer up close for the first time. They nodded as she passed, or tried to imitate what they thought a salute looked like. Carth was treating her like a _big deal_, and Carth and his men had gained their respect, so naturally, that respect transferred to the female officer.

The door shut behind the trio, and Carth quickly tossed a tunic and leggings to his superior. She simply pulled the clothes on over the… lingerie… Brejik had dressed her in.

"Captain, what's your plan to escape Taris?" she asked.

"Nothing solid yet, sir," Captain Onasi replied.

"What have you been doing all this time?" Bastila asked sharply.

Carth blinked, "We spent most of our resources trying to locate and rescue you, _sir_."

"Right…" Bastila sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Now that I'm back in charge of this mission, perhaps we can start doing things _properly_…"

"Sir, where's crewman Wrackers?" Kyle asked.

Carth looked at his feet, "I'm sorry, Kyle… she didn't make it."

Kyle became very still for several seconds, "Understood sir," he sat down on a chair in a corner, and began cleaning a blaster rifle.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Captain Onasi requested.

"Permission granted," Bastila said.

"I know you're new at this, sir, but a leader doesn't berate her troops simply because things aren't going as planned. Don't let your ego get in the way of the real issues here."

"I hardly think— I am a member of the Jedi Order, and this is _my_ mission," Bastila said, puffing up.

"Oh, I am aware of that, _commander_, hell you practically took over my ship!" Carth retorted, his frayed temper finally snapping, combining with long suppressed resentment. A captain disliked being captained on his own ship. It was rude.

"We did nothing of the sort! You were left in command of daily ship operations and protocols—"

"Then what was _he_ doing on my ship?" Carth demanded, pointing at the commando in the corner.

"We needed commandos for our—" Bastila started but Carth cut her off, "He was the only one! You brought just _him_ with you, and it wasn't because he was a commando! Hell, he'd been off active duty for at least five months due to his injuries!"

"It sounds like you don't trust the wisdom of the council…" Bastila said coldly.

"Something is going on, and I don't like being left in the dark," Carth said evenly.

"My abilities have led the Republic to victory many times—"

"Your talents might win us a few battles, Bastila, but this isn't a naval battle you can influence. We're on the ground, without reinforcements. We're _insurgents _now, commander."

"I fail to see how that is relevant," Bastila retorted.

"I don't have any talents in this kind of warfare. _He_ does," Carth pointed at Draven.

"I out rank him, but until you showed up, _he_ was more or less in command," Carth continued.

"Again, how is this relevant?" Bastila asked.

"If you lack experience in a field, you don't try to _hide it_, you find people under your command who do have the experience you lack, and you _rely on_ them for advice until your experience increases. It's what separates a good commander from a dead one," Carth said softly.

"Captain, may I interrupt?" Kyle asked.

"By all means sergeant, jump in," Bastila snapped.

"I've been thinking about the mandalorian's proposal. If we're to enter the base, we'll need more than just the droid he told us about," Kyle said.

"Mandalorian?" Carth asked, startled, "When did you have time to meet a _mandalorian?_"

"He aided us in our escape," Kyle told Carth.

"Go on, sergeant," Bastila said, cutting off any further comments Carth might make.

"We don't have the manpower to assault the base, even if Gadon were willing to sacrifice his gang. We need to infiltrate the base, and for that, we'll need authorization pass keys, and disguises," Kyle continued.

"Wait, why are we infiltrating a sith base?" Carth asked.

"To retrieve the launch codes so the Sith defense guns won't destroy us when we hit atmosphere," Kyle said quickly.

"We have a ship?" Carth asked, feeling even more out of the loop.

"Not yet, sir, but the mandalorian does."

"I assume you have some idea of how to acquire those things?" Bastila asked. Kyle smiled coldly, and it sent a chill down Bastila's spine.

"I'm a commando, ma'am. I can find all sorts of interesting things…"


	6. Chapter 6: Flight

Carth stepped into the store, in the Upper City. He saw a Twi'lek, of all things, behind the counter. Considering how xenophobic the Upper City was, he was surprised… and a little curious. She had enough tools and gadgets clipped to her belt to make her look more like an escaped mechanic than a proprietor. Then again, this was a droid shop.

"Ah, a customer!" the woman said, excited.

"Hello, miss," Carth said, nodding.

"Mmm. Polite too. You're not from Taris, are you…" she said, her eyes becoming guarded.

"Aside from my accent, what gave you that impression?" Carth asked, curious.

"Most of the Upper City clientele don't like aliens living on the same level as them. They don't mind us Twi'lek girls, but only if we're dancing half-naked on a stage for them. They don't like seeing us clothed, or with independent businesses," the woman said bitterly.

"_Canderous sent me,"_ Carth said, feeling foolish. He felt like a little kid waving his hands, and saying the magic word to make the gizka appear in the hat.

"Oh! Why didn't you say so! The droid is ready, just like Davik wanted it," she waited, watching Carth expectantly.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?" Carth asked.

"Payment," she prodded, rolling her eyes a little… but more in amusement than annoyance.

"I'm sorry, remind me, how much again?" Carth asked.

"Twenty-five hundred credits… but I'll drop it down to twenty-hundred for a favor," the woman said, her violet eyes glinting.

"What kind of favor…" Carth asked cautiously.

((()))

Mission double checked that the comlink was in place and transmitting, then gave Kyle a double click on the channel. He nodded, and entered the cantina. Mission also pulled up the surveillance feed from the bar's security cameras on her datapad.

Mission and Bastila watched bemusedly as Kyle walked over to the bar and sat down. "Hey Tasha, uncle called, to let us know— _hey_," Kyle paused, looking at the woman beside him closer, "You aren't Tasha," he said. The woman shrugged, and Kyle grinned shyly, "You're much prettier than Tasha," he blurted. Bastila's eyebrows rose and she glanced at Mission. The young slicer grinned in appreciation.

The woman laughed, "I haven't seen you around before. Probably because they don't give us much time off at the base…" she said. Kyle looked at her thoughtfully, "You're from the military base? You don't look like one of the Sith," he said cautiously.

"Oh?" she challenged, almost coyly, arching an eyebrow.

"No," Kyle whispered conspiratorially, "where's your fangs? And why aren't you devouring small children right now?"

The woman laughed, "I'm actually a little surprised you're talking to me at all… most of the people here on Taris can't stand us Sith."

"_Well_…" Kyle hedged, "_You_ did conquer the planet. That's bound to upset at least a few citizens…"

The woman stiffened, not catching the joke, "Are you going to lecture me too?"

Kyle looked over at her, "Do you want me to?" he asked, curious. It took the young woman a moment to realize that he wasn't antagonizing her, "Oh. Sorry, I might have overreacted a bit. But can you blame me? Everywhere I look I see one of you Tarisians glaring at me with hate in your eyes," the woman complained.

"I'm not actually from Taris. I'm just stuck here until the quarantine ends," Kyle confided to her, glancing around the room, as if he would be mob lynched if anyone found out.

"You're an off-worlder?" the woman asked, surprised.

"What? My accent and natural optimism didn't give it away?" Kyle asked. He had her _hooked_, now he just had to reel her in. Her entire posture had opened up slightly. Her legs weren't crossed, she'd shifted slightly to face him, and was actively conversing now.

"I figured you'd be even _angrier_, being stuck on a foreign planet and all," the woman said speculatively.

Kyle shrugged, sipping at his drink, "Being stuck on Taris isn't _so_ bad… but the locals aren't much fun," he admitted.

The woman leaned forward, a little smile on her lips, "I know what you mean. It's like _everyone _on this backwater planet is in a permanent bad mood."

Kyle smiled, "Honestly though, how hard is it being posted on a hostile world?" he asked, interested.

The woman sighed unhappily, "Pretty hard. I try to make the best of it, but it's too easy to get depressed on an assignment like this… but I do what I can to keep my spirits up."

"You know, you're damaging the reputation of Sith everywhere," Kyle told her quietly. The woman's green eyes sparkled and Bastila coughed politely to herself. Mission smirked at the Jedi over the datapad, "So, how much was the bet again?" Mission asked casually. Bastila glared at the juvenile delinquent, "The Jedi Order does not condone gambling—" Mission held up her hands, making peace.

"You're smashing all of my expectations. You haven't threatened my family, eaten any babies, grown fangs, sharp claws… I don't think you've even raised your voice. You're making your comrades work hard to maintain the monstrous Sith image. Is that really fair for them?" Kyle frowned. The woman laughed again, "It's nice to meet… I mean, it's good to talk about this stuff – it gets pretty lonely up at the military base," the woman admitted. She glanced at her chrono, obviously torn.

"I… I have to get going soon – I've got a shift at the military base. But some of us are having a party tonight to blow off some steam. I'd _really_ like to see you again. Why don't you drop by the party?" the woman offered, almost shyly.

Kyle looked her in the eye, obviously debating, then he nodded jerkily, as if breaking some taboo, "Sounds good, I'll be there," he promised.

The woman sagged slightly in relief as she stood. She reached for a napkin, but after a moment's hesitation, grabbed Kyle's hand, and wrote the address down on his palm instead, "Don't be late. We're starting right after our shifts end. See you there… oh, and my name's Sarna," she said.

Kyle smiled taking the flimsi, "Ben," he responded. Sarna scurried out of the cantina, and Kyle watched her go, before turning back to the bar and holding his drink in both hands. Several minutes passed, and Bastila wondered when the sergeant would think it safe to leave. Finally, Mission lost patience, "So, Kyle, how many girls have you picked up with that act?" she asked curiously.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Kyle coughed into his fist, and rose, to leave the cantina.

"Does it work on boys too?" Mission asked.

"I wouldn't know… but it might," Kyle whispered. He bumped into Carth on the way out.

"What are you doing here?" Carth asked, startled.

"I could say the same," Kyle said, careful not to call him sir. He had a twi'lek woman with him.

"Well, get back home," Carth growled, and the woman looked at the captain, amused.

"You wouldn't be out on a date, by any chance?" Kyle asked innocently.

"Out," Carth barked, and Kyle raised his hands, conceding the duel.

"Be gentle with him," Kyle told the woman sternly, and she laughed.

Carth glared as the soldier escaped the cantina.

((()))

Kyle tapped the door chime, and the doors opened. Music blared out of the apartment, and Sarna was at the door, "Hey, you made it! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show! The party's in full swing – come on in."

She pulled him into the room, and the door shut behind him. At least a dozen other men and women were crammed into the apartment, dancing to a rather energetic song he didn't recognize it didn't sound local. Surrounded by his enemies, the commando danced. Sarna didn't seem interested in _talking_, just dancing.

Near 2300 hours, another man arrived, carrying a carton of what turned out to be ale. Less than a minute later, everyone had a glass, including Kyle. The room was getting rather hot, and he was freely sweating.

Kyle sipped at his drink, feeling his taste buds cower and scream for mercy. Sarna gulped her glass, and had a second. She turned to him, "You have to try this tarisian ale – it's fantastic! We should have conquered this planet ages ago!"

The man with the case seemed alarmed by her rapid consumption, "Careful, Sarna. That wine's got quite the kick. A couple more glasses and we'll all be passed out on the floor!"

Sarna refilled her glass _a third_ time, "Who cares? We're not on duty tomorrow – let's live a little! Come on – drink up!"

In less than an hour, Kyle was the only one still standing. It had been a challenge keeping Sarna in her pants for the first half of that hour, but then he ended up holding her hair out of her face while she retched in the bucket.

Kyle opened the door, and peered out.

"Ready?" Carth asked, appearing from a shadowed doorway.

Kyle nodded, and the captain followed him inside.

"Sir, some of the Sith didn't secure their uniforms on the base before coming to the party," Kyle whispered.

"Sloppy," Carth observed gleefully.

They found five uniforms, two gray cloth uniforms of low level technicians, and three were basic sith infantry, which possessed reflective metal plates attached to a black body glove. Most importantly, they had a full face visor, concealing the identity of the wearer. One of them belonged to Sarna Fane. The other two were for men, Yun Gorlak, and a Tetran Ross.

The Republic soldiers quickly located the three whose armor they would be stealing, and found their pass keys.

Ten minutes later, a garbage receptacle was pushed out of the apartment by two men, and disappeared down a dark alley. No one noticed, and no one saw.

((()))

"This armor is… chafing," Bastila hissed, walking behind Carth.

"What do you want me to do about it, sir?" Carth asked.

Bastila subsided, and tried to ignore where the armor was rubbing the inside of her thighs.

"Commander, straighten your back, and rotate your right elbow up. You aren't holding the rifle properly," Kyle whispered.

Irritated, the young jedi did as the commando said. She'd never used something as crude and bulky as a _blaster_ before.

Behind the three, a light gray utility droid trundled along, its blue photoreceptor glowing faintly.

Its designation was T3-M4, and Janice Nall had told Carth all about the droid's many hidden functions during their… visit… to the cantina. Looking at its unassuming exterior, no one would notice that its shell was actually a plastoid composite, similar to body armor, or that it concealed a blaster, cutting torch, demolition probe, and an arc welder.

As they approached the base, along the walkway connector, Carth saw four automated Sith fighters resting in their cradles, ready to launch at a moment's notice. Kyle froze, and stared at them.

_That one_.

The commando tried to shake off the feeling, but it wouldn't leave him.

_THAT ONE_.

"Sergeant, is there a problem?" Bastila asked, looking back at him. She could sense a swirling turmoil in his mind, and also… she felt something similar to a Jedi's presence, which shouldn't have been possible.

Kyle casually left the walkway, and crouched beside one of the fighters. He bypassed the basic security measures, and opened the access panel, near the engines. He threaded a comlink into the tangle of data cables, and connected it to the power core of the fighter.

Then he closed the access panel, and restored the security measures.

Ten seconds had passed.

He returned to the walkway, and rejoined his comrades.

"What did you do?" Bastila asked.

"I'll tell you later, sir," Kyle said. The sense of doom was gone… and Kyle wondered if he was going insane.

They approached the entrance of the base, and nodded to the two troopers on duty, sliding their pass keys across the scanner.

The doors opened. Three troopers and a droid rode the turbolift down into the base. The receptionist looked up from her console, "You aren't supposed to be on duty for another twenty-four hours."

"We're covering for some friends," Bastila said, her hand moving discretely at her waist.

"You're covering for some friends," the receptionist repeated.

"Be about your business," Bastila continued, and the poor woman repeated what the Jedi told her.

In the hallway, Carth tried to suppress a shudder. The Force could do terrible things to a mind… The base used to belong to the Republic, so its layout was familiar. Carth led the others down another turbolift, nodding to the Sith they passed, until they reached the computer core. His pass key lacked the authorization to open the lock. T3-M4 chirped, and rolled forward, plugging a jack into the port under the lock. It muttered to itself as it worked, and a few seconds later, the light over the lock flicked green.

Bastila felt a dark void in the Force several levels below them. There was another Force user in the facility.

"We need to hurry," Bastila whispered.

A pair of technicians were tending to the computer servers, and the intruders entered in the midst of the punch-line the male technician was telling the woman.

"Hey, what are you doing down here? We didn't call for security," the female on the left said, startled.

"We're not here for you. We're escorting the droid," Carth said easily, gesturing to T3-M4.

"Why?" the male technician asked, confused.

Carth hesitated, "I'm not sure," he turned to Kyle, "did the captain tell you?"

Kyle shook his head, "I assumed you knew,"

Carth sighed, "Maybe the orders are still logged," he walked over to one of the consoles, and called up the computer interface.

"Uh, you can't do that," the female protested.

"Fine. Can one of you do it for me?" Carth asked, stepping to the side.

"Sure," the female logged into the system, "which captain?"

"Captain Endar," Bastila supplied, and the men with her stiffened. Endar was the safe word, that meant their presence had been detected.

"Hmm… sorry, I can't find an Endar… there's a lieutenant _Ander_…"

Carth's rifle collided with the back of the tech's head, knocking her cold, and Kyle had the other man in a choke hold. Bastila closed the door, wishing for her lost lightsaber.

"T3, get in there, now!" Carth barked, and the droid hurried forward, and began to hack through the encryption systems around the main computer.

"What happened?" Kyle asked.

"There's another Force user, and he knows we're here," Bastila snapped.

Kyle looked up from the computer he was at, "I don't see an alert…"

Bastila shut her eyes, concentrating on the malevolent presence.

"He's approaching, nonetheless," she replied.

"We can't let him engage us here. There's no cover, and the droid is too exposed," Kyle said quickly.

"Agreed, but do we intercept him, or draw him off?" Carth wondered.

Kyle suddenly froze.

"Or do we do something else entirely?" He glanced at T3-M4.

"T3, can you reprogram the battle droids to target the Sith and attack them?"

Kyle glanced at his data pad;

_((There are a number of battle droids in the maintenance bay, which are undergoing software upgrades. Their targeting algorithms can be altered remotely, and reinitialized, but there is insufficient time to cause them to attack only Sith personnel)) _

"How about targeting anything organic?" Kyle suggested.

The droid beeped an affirmative.

Kyle looked at Bastila, who nodded, "Do it," she said. She was thinking of the poor receptionist though, a local civilian by the looks of her. She was organic.

((()))

Technician first class Jyorg sat at his terminal, waiting for his shift to end. For once, there wasn't six hundred urgent tasks to accomplish on his shift, the shift before him had actually _done their jobs_… for once. He glanced back over at the platoon of battle droids standing at attention, as their upgrades were uploaded. The droids always unnerved him a little, since they lacked vocabulators (an unnecessary component) so they never made a noise. He looked back down at his terminal, and drummed his fingers, waiting for the upload to finish, so he could send this platoon back to the barracks, and start the next batch.

With a whine, thirty central processors came back online. Jyorg looked up, and saw all thirty droids reach up, and pull the data transfer cable from their craniums, simultaneously.

"What are you doing? Stop! The transfer isn't complete!" Jyorg protested, walking towards the terminal to shut them down. Thirty blaster rifles rose.

The tech never reached the panel.

((()))

Kyle chuckled, "I'm getting reports now, there's a _platoon_ of infantry mechs rampaging through the base. They think it's a software malfunction."

T3-M4 chirped urgently at him, so Kyle looked back at the datapad.

_((I have located numerous defensive measures installed in the security systems, for use against intruders. Should I activate them?))_

"Yes, T3, do anything you can to slow down the Sith, as long as it doesn't interfere with your primary objective," Bastila said, reading over Kyle's shoulder.

((()))

"Secure the door!" the lieutenant roared, and his men scrambled to comply. Half of them had been woken from their bunks, with nothing but their black body gloves and weapons. On the other side, combat droids tried to blast their way in. The door suddenly chimed.

"They overrode the lockout!" one man screamed, before the door started to open. Lt. Ander shot the panel, and the door froze, but there was a two centimeter gap. White fingers shoved through that gap, and droids began forcing the door open against its motor unit.

"Fall back!" the Lt. shouted.

Anti-personnel turrets dropped from the ceiling, and took aim at the door. At least _those_ were working, Ander sighed in relief. The first droid through the door staggered against the hail of blaster shots, succumbing to the defense turrets, and his men joined in.

But the turrets stopped firing when the second droid entered.

Of all the times for the system to fail…

Then the turrets rotated, and starting cutting down his own men.

"Get to cover!" Ander shouted, dragging one woman behind a control terminal. She only had a bodyglove, which had done little to stop the blaster bolts that had hit her left arm and right above her left hip. She was conscious, barely. Then _he_ was there.

The governor vaulted the console in a swirl of black cloak and armored limbs, a pair of vibro-swords humming angrily in his hands. Effortlessly, he hacked the turrets from their mounts, and they fell to the deck with a deafening crash. Then the young man was among the droids, carving through them like butter. The battle disappeared down the corridor, and around the bend.

"Get the wounded down to the medbay!" Lt. Ander said. The governor seemed to have the situation well in hand. That's when clouds of green poisonous gas started drifting from the vents.

"Let's move!" Ander shouted, throwing the woman across his shoulders in a medic carry. His armor's filtration systems would protect him, but not all his men had armor.

((()))

T3-M4 continued to bypass layer after layer of security protocol and decryption, processing over a dozen terabytes of data per second. He was logged into multiple security networks, across multiple nodes and levels. His thirty combat droids were being quickly torn apart by a human male with two vibro-swords. Elsewhere, the enemy units were moving in confusion. T3-M4 overloaded power conduits when feasible, eliminating enemy units (both organic and not) in multiple hallways. There was also a system that released a neuro-toxin from the ventilation system in key choke points of the base. It was ineffective against the Sith Troopers and droids, but the technicians and officers had no protection.

((()))

Bastila looked at Kyle, "Captain, remain with the droid. Sergeant, follow me, if you would."

"Yes sir,"

"In your combat record, it says you have encountered Dark Jedi before," Bastila said, conversationally.

"Yes sir."

"Any advice?" Bastila asked, nervously examining her blaster rifle.

"Deflection shots, sir, explosives, mines…"

"We don't have any of that," Bastila sighed.

"Actually, the armory should be in that direction," Kyle said, pointing.

"Then let's go," Bastila said.

((()))

Carth looked up when someone started banging on the door, "Open the door! Hurry!" someone shouted.

Carth could fuse the lock, and then the enemy would have to cut their way in, and he'd have to fight them alone… or he could pretend to be a Sith still.

Carth unlocked the door, and the panel slid up into its housing. Half dressed Sith pushed into the room, most wounded, and carrying others. One man seemed to be in charge, "Secure that door, trooper!" he barked at Carth.

"Yes sir!"

The small room was cramped with bodies.

"Keep pressure on that!" the Sith Lt. told a grim looking woman, who leaned harder on a gushing wound in another man's leg.

"Sir!"

Lt. Ander looked up at the trooper who'd opened the door.

"What is it… private Gorlak?"

"I know what's going on!" the trooper told him, breathlessly.

"What?" Ander demanded.

"Someone used a remote access jack in one of the base's terminals to open an exterior line to an off-site location. They're trying to access the main computer core!"

"How do you know this?" Lt. Ander asked in disbelief.

The trooper pointed to two technicians, lying nearby, "I was with them when the attack started. They logged onto a terminal, and discovered what I just told you," the trooper said.

"If we can locate the point of access, we can remove the slicer from the system," Lt. Ander realized.

"That's what they said sir. They jacked that utility droid into the main computer, to try and locate the access point."

"What happened to the technicians?"

"Some sort of energy discharge from the terminal. It missed the droid, though."

Lt. Ander nodded, and walked over to the utility droid, which chirped mournfully at him.

"What is the status of your search?" Lt. Ander barked. The trooper handed him a datapad, and saw that it had been jury rigged to translate the droid's communications. The trooper's initiative was noteworthy, but Ander didn't have time for that.

_((The intruder has cross-linked multiple nodes, to conceal their point of origin. I am cross-referencing run times, to locate the unauthorized access)) _

"Have you accomplished anything though?" Lt. Ander demanded.

_((I have isolated the main computer's higher functions from the network, and also disabled security measures in this room, to prevent the intruder from further attacking occupants in this room remotely))_

Lt. Ander sighed, "Can you tell what the intruder's objective is?"

_((Based on the content unauthorized user is attempting to access, it appears their objective is to introduce a software virus to cause all automated military units to attack Sith targets.))_

"My god…" Lt. Ander whispered. Droids made up nearly ninety percent of Taris's occupation force. If those droids turned on them…

T3-M4 had been programmed to falsify responses to unauthorized users. It was part of a security algorithm, and as such, did not interfere with his ethics subroutines.

He bypassed the final layer protecting the main computer, and within seconds, located the launch codes for the automated defense guns. As added insurance, the droid also programmed in a fail safe, which would deactivate the guns. This he hid in a tertiary back-up buffer, where organic technicians would be unlikely to notice it.

_((I have located point of intrusion, but cannot sever access from this station))_

T3-M4 said. The unauthorized user looked at his data pad.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

_((I must sever connection manually))_

"Where is the point of intrusion?" the unauthorized user demanded.

_((Console a-17))_

"Damn it…" the unauthorized user looked at the other Sith units in the room.

"Everyone in full armor, double check your—"

T3-M4 whistled at him, interrupting the speaker, and prompting him to look at the pad again.

_((The intruder has reconfigured security systems to attack organics only))_

"On second thought… droid, can you reach the terminal on your own?"

T3-M4 beeped an affirmative.

"Then get to that terminal, now!"

Carth watched T3-M4 trundle down the corridor, before he sealed the door again. Great. They had the codes, but Carth was trapped with a squad of Sith.

((()))

Bastila looked down the hallway, while Kyle rummaged through the weapon racks. Judging by his comments, he appreciated what he was sorting through. A man in lightweight armor stepped around the corner, into view. His head was shaved, and covered in tattoos… but he didn't have a lightsaber. Instead, he was carrying a pair of vibro-swords.

"Kyle, we're out of time," Bastila said.

The man stopped twenty meters shy of Bastila and peered at her.

"Jedi," he said. It was an observation.

Kyle stepped up beside his commander, and offered her one of the toys he'd located. It was a Sith-issue vibrosword. He too held one at his side.

"You… you are no Jedi," the Sith said, staring at Kyle.

"Nonetheless… the Force is strong in you, untapped… to think that a Force Adept could be found on this insignificant planet…"

Kyle raised his sword into a guard stance.

"No matter. Neither of you possess the power to challenge a _Disciple of the_ _Darkside_," the man decided.

"Turn away from the darkside," Bastila said, "It will lead only to your own destruction."

"Spoken like a true puppet of the Jedi council," the tattooed man sneered, "This meeting is a stroke of luck for me. My master will surely reward me with my lightsaber after I kill you both…"

"There is no luck," Bastila told him.

Then the two Force users met in a staccato of blades.

Kyle watched his commander, knowing he was overmatched. An idea came to him though. He returned to the armory and began fishing through the munitions again.

((()))

Bastila was hard pressed to hold her assailant at bay. She had never trained with a vibro-sword before, and it was _nothing_ like a lightsaber.

Also, this man had two weapons, and she, only one.

Despite his boasts though, he was not her equal in the Force, however.

She threw him against a wall, but the man deflected most of her strike with a wedge of counter energy, so instead of snapping his bones on impact, it merely winded him. He sensed her power, and faltered for a moment, but then pressed his attack. She blocked his strike, and pinned his rear foot to the ground with a more subtle use of telekinesis. The man didn't notice until he tried to lunge, and came up short. She almost finished the duel right then, but he managed to deflect her strike in time, and countered, allowing himself to remain tethered.

"You are weak," the man panted, "forced to rely on tricks to remain alive."

A trio of grenades rolled among the Force users, and exploded, spraying a sticky adhesive gel, which threw the combatants against the walls, and secured them there. The second and third detonated a moment later, one filled the hall with light and sound, the other an EMP discharge.

Kyle sprinted at the Dark Jedi, and turned his vibro-sword on.

Pinned to the wall, and blinded, the Dark Jedi sneered at him, one of his arms was still free, holding a vibro-sword. Kyle swung at the man's head, an easily blocked blow, which the man did so with a mocking laugh. Kyle's blade severed his opponent's blade, hardly slowed, and split the man from the top of his head, down to his sternum.

"How did you do that?" Bastila demanded, her voice strangely muffled, busy snapping the hardened strands of adhesive one by one with the Force.

"The EMP grenade overloaded the vibration generators in his swords, so when I hit his blade, it was just a piece of metal," Kyle explained.

"That was…" Bastila searched for the words to describe it. Underhanded, ruthless, and creative were all words that come to mind.

"Also, your comlink and anything else you had active is probably fried, sir," Kyle said. He offered her his own sword, which she took, and quickly freed herself from the adhesive.

((()))

Carth found the LT, "Sir, we need medical supplies."

"Damn you, don't you think I know that?!" the other man shouted.

"I volunteer," Carth said, letting a quaver into his voice.

"You what?"

"I'll go to the med bay, and if the route is clear, I'll signal you," Carth said.

The LT stared at him for several seconds.

"Go. If this works… you're officer material son," the LT said.

"Thank you sir," Carth nodded nervously, and shouldered his blaster rifle. At the LT's nod, one of the other Sith unlocked the door, and Carth jumped out. The door slammed shut behind him, and the lock reengaged. Cautiously, Carth began to head down the silent corridors, checking his corners as he went. He was organic.

((()))

Bastila, Kyle, and T3-M4 where waiting at the RV point when Carth finally arrived. Quickly, they returned to the site of Sarna's party, and returned the armor and pass keys they'd borrowed. None of the Sith had stirred from where they'd fallen, and T3-M4 assured them that he had erased all records of the pass keys being used, to further throw the Sith off-track in their investigation.

Then a Republic Commando contacted a Mandalorian, to arrange a meeting on behalf of a Jedi… stranger things had happened, but Kyle couldn't think of any.

((()))

Bastila sat in a booth of a cantina, and tried to _not_ notice how her leggings were sticking to the fake leather seat. Mission was sitting to her left sucking sullenly on the non-alcoholic ice / fruit concoction Bastilla had insisted on, refusing to allow Mission to order the alcoholic version. Across the table, Kyle was nervously playing with a spoon. Under his loose robe, he was wearing his commando armor. She too was wearing a robe, but this one was primarily for the hood to hide her face. She glanced at the others scattered around the room. Carth was standing at the bar, chatting with a waitress, his back to the group. If he was needed, Kyle would signal him via comlink.

Zaalbar hovered against one wall, looking just like a bouncer. T3-M4 was hidden under a tarp, out in the speeder, keeping an eye on it, and a look-out for the mandalorian.

Mission had already transferred the launch codes to her datapad, and erased them from the droid, in case Canderous could track T3, and simply took the droid.

There was a lot of tension in the air, and it only intensified when an armored man entered the cantina. He wasn't carrying his heavy repeating blaster, but no Mandalorian is ever _lightly_ armed.

"_Se'cuy gar,"_ the mandalorian said _((so you're still alive / hello))_, stopping at their table. He pulled up a stool, and sat on the corner, his back to the room.

"I heard there was an accident down at the Sith military base. Do you have what we need?" the mando asked.

Kyle nodded.

"Good. Then so do I," Canderous said in satisfaction. He pulled a small device from his belt, and showed it to the others when they tensed up.

"Sonic bubble," he said. He placed it on the table, and activated it. Suddenly, all background noise disappeared, replaced by a gently hum.

Sonic bubbles were relatively difficult to manufacture, making them fairly expensive, but since they were rechargeable, the cost was easily offset by its uses to the more paranoid populaces. Essentially it created a bubble of oscillating sound that prevented noise inside the bubble from escaping, and vice versa. It also blocked comlinks, and remote listening equipment.

"Alright, the ship I told you about, it's Davik Kang's flagship, the Ebon Hawk. She's a light freighter, the flagship of his smuggling fleet… or what's left of it."

Canderous said intently.

"I assume we're stealing it," Mission said.

"That's the short version, kid," the armored man agreed.

"So, how and where?" Kyle asked.

"It's in a concealed hanger on his estate. I can bring a couple of you with me, Davik's always looking to recruit new talent. How many are in your group?"

"Three," Bastila said.

"Hey, I want to go too!" Mission complained.

"Mission, we're not coming back. This is your home," Kyle said softly.

"No. I'm coming with you, you need me!" the girl insisted.

"Why do you want to get off Taris so badly?" Kyle asked.

"I've got my reasons…" Mission said evasively.

Bastila shrugged, "Five," she said.

"You want to get the wookiee and the officer over here?" Canderous suggested.

Bastila's face twitched.

"I've got friends here, princess. They saw you arrive as a group," the merc said flatly. Mission gestured to Zaalbar, who was watching them. Moments later Carth and Zaalbar entered the bubble.

"Sonic bubble?" Carth guessed.

"That's right, now shut up," Canderous grumbled.

"So, here's how we'll do this…"

((()))

High above the planet, a Sith officer briskly left the turbolift, and stepped onto the bridge of his ship. He could see the tall man standing before the sweeping viewport, at the very front of the bridge. On either side of the walkway, recessed crew stations were manned by diligent crewmen, keeping the Interdictor-class ship, _Leviathan_ on course and operational. The man's name was Admiral Saul Karath.

As he approached, the Sith Lord turned, revealing the metal brace that covered his face from the nose down. He had been expecting the admiral.

"You summoned me, Lord Malak?"

"The search for Bastila is taking to long," the Sith Lord growled.

"I assure you, our men are doing everything they can—"

"We cannot risk her escaping the planet… order the fleet to bombard the planet," Malak said briskly, as if discussing crew duty rosters.

"But, milord, there are millions of innocent people on Taris… not to mention our own men, still on the surface," Karath protested.

Malak spun, and the air around him became heavy with menace, "Your predecessor made the mistake of questioning my orders. Surely _you_ are not so foolish as to make the same mistake…"

"N-no my lord, Malak. It will be done as you command, but it will take several hours to position our ships," Admiral Karath stammered.

"Then I suggest you begin immediately. You are dismissed, _admiral_."

Malak turned, and regarded the vista of the planet…

Karath shakily began issuing orders to the fleet, and quietly commanded them to use one-fourth maneuvering speed, to prevent accidental collisions… and buy a little more time for the troopers on the surface. He prayed they located Bastila quickly… but he could do no more than that.

((()))

Kyle sat in the seat next to the mandalorian as they flew. Carth was in the seat behind Kyle, and looked less than pleased to be there. "So, what battles were you in? Maybe we faced each other on the battle field," Canderous said.

"I was at Foerost," Kyle said.

Canderous chuckled, "A truly glorious stroke it was too, we stole nearly three hundred capital ships from your shipyards that day…"

Canderous launched into the tale of how Mandalore had tricked the Republic fleet into engaging a splinter force of his ships in the neighboring system, as a diversion, while the main fleet elements jumped into orbit around Foerost, right on top of the shipyards.

Carth tried to tune out the man's war stories, and saw their target come into view. It looked more like a fortified tower than an estate, lit up like a beacon in the dark.

Canderous set the speeder down on a duracrete landing pad, and led the others towards a reinforced entrance.

((()))

Once again, Bastila forced herself to remain calm, as _another_ leering guard tried to suggest that she required his personal attentions. She probed his mind, and deflected his interest, as she had so many times already, and the guard forgot about her, and decided he was hungry. Hopefully he wouldn't remember her for several hours at least.

She returned to a corner of the slave quarters, and fumed. Mission had used a semi-permanent dye to darken her pale skin to an olive complexion. Also, her brown hair had been given green high lights, and false tattoos covered her face and upper body, mostly lines and geometric designs. In a word, she looked nothing like herself.

She swore she would get the urchin back for this.

((()))

Kyle kept his expression calm as a rodian stopped Canderous, _((Davik is busy.))_

"I'm on a mission for him, fool, get out of my way," Canderous said.

The rodian held his ground, _((Davik say no one disturb him.))_

Canderous slammed the rodian into the wall, pinning him there, "You're either very brave, or very stupid," Canderous grumbled, then he let go of the rodian's throat, "Come on, I'll find you two some rooms," he snarled.

You couldn't intimidate rodians.

((()))

Canderous ushered them into a small apartment room, and closed the door. He activated the sonic bubble, "That went well," he said in satisfaction.

"I thought you wanted to see Davik," Carth said.

"If it looks like I'm avoiding him, he'll wonder why. If I'm trying to get his attention, he'll ignore me, for a day or two… show me my _place_," Ordo chuckled.

Kyle pulled up the schematics of the tower on his datapad, reviewing them again.

"I'm still surprised no one recognized my armor," Kyle said, slipping the pad back into its pouch.

"It looks close enough to normal trooper armor, so these _areutii _assume it is… and that's always been abundant on battlefields," Canderous replied.

"_Areutii_, or the armor?" Kyle asked.

"Both," Canderous grunted, turning off the bubble.

"So now we wait…" Carth sighed.

((()))

Mission pulled herself along the air vent, once again capitalizing on her small size. No one _else_ in the group could do this. She reached another shaft, consulted her tiny datapad, and nodded, this was the one. She secured her pad in a pocket, and crept into the shaft, bracing herself with her gloved hands, until she could extract her legs and get them under her. She released the pressure against the vent walls, and slowly slid down. The infiltrator counted the floors as she went, stopping at the correct level.

The girl quickly disabled the sensors on the vent, and took out her vibro-blade. She flicked it on, bracing herself in the shaft with her feet. The room on the other side of the vent was dark at this time of night. She pulled herself through, and propped the vent cover back in place, securing it with a twist of wire from a pocket on her vest.

She was in the droid bay, and tiptoed among the sleeping automatons. In the corner, she located T3-M4. He had a restraining bolt on him, and Mission set to work disabling it.

((()))

Kyle frowned. He was picking up a lot of encrypted military communications from orbit. Curious, the commando fed the transmissions from his helmet, to his pad. He couldn't decrypt any of them, but something was going on overhead. Something big. Intrigued, he began tracking the positions of the different signals, and his stomach began to tie itself in knots.

"Captain, wake up," Kyle barked.

"What?" Carth grumbled.

Kyle hurried over to them, and showed them what he had seen.

Carth's eyes widened, "It's Telos all over again."

"That's a bombardment formation," Kyle confirmed grimly.

"We need to move _now_."

((()))

Mission had just finished removing the restraining bolt when her headset chirped at her.

She touched her ear, "What?" she whispered.

"Mission, we're out of time," Carth snapped.

"Uh, I thought we still had seven hours…" Mission protested.

"We have less than twenty minutes," Carth replied, and cut the transmission.

What the hell did that mean?

((()))

Kyle pulled his helmet on, and checked the charge on his _borrowed_ Sith issue blaster rifle.

"Stay behind me, Captain," Kyle advised.

"You're the expert," Carth grumbled, drawing his blaster. He was wearing a combat vest under his jacket, but again, it didn't offer the kind of protection commando armor did.

"Canderous," Kyle selected the mandalorian's com frequency.

"What?" the man answered after a moment.

"_Ba'slan shev'la,_" Kyle snapped. _((Strategic disappearance))_

"_Haar'chak!"_ Canderous cursed.

"The Sith are going to light the night sky in flame," Kyle said, referencing a mandalorian chant, since he couldn't be certain of how secure the comline was.

"How long?" Canderous asked.

"Less than… fifteen minutes now," Kyle replied.

"Understood… but we'll burn brighter still," Canderous promised, closing the line, and finishing the song.

((()))

Bastila looked up when the door to the slave quarters crashed open. Several of the twi'leks scattered.

"Commander, we need to go, _now_," a man wearing Republic Commando armor snapped, he had a rifle shouldered.

"Want my jacket, commander?" Captain Onasi asked, only half teasing.

"If you would," Bastila said. It was cold in the hallway.

Several guards ran into the corridor, shouting into comlinks. They also had blasters.

Kyle opened fire, dropping two of the guards in mid stride, and Carth's shot dropped the third.

"Status?" Carth demanded.

"I'm almost to the ship. I've got Tee-Three," Mission responded.

A wookiee roared from the comlink. "Zaalbar says he's two levels below the hanger," Kyle translated quickly.

"I'm en route," Canderous answered.

"How much time?" Bastila asked.

Kyle glanced at the chrono in the top left corner of his heads up display.

"Nine minutes," he replied.

More guards boiled into the corridor, but the group didn't slow. Several shots slapped into Kyle's armor, winding him, but that didn't prevent him from returning accurate fire.

Bastila threw a surge of power down the corridor, sending the guards tumbling like leaves in a gale. The three republic fugitives resumed their sprint.

((()))

Mission crouched outside the hanger doors, while T3 plugged into the socket, chirping quietly. She kept her hold-out blaster against her thigh, out of sight, but still in hand. Why did they only have twenty minutes?

Some thugs stepped into the hallway, and hurried towards the hanger. Even though Mission had killed the lighting in this hallway, she could see her attackers easily in the dark… and they were reptilian trandoshans, so they saw her just as easily.

And their skin was resistant to blaster fire.

They hissed something suitably aggressive and lizard-like, then charged.

"T3!" she shouted. The droid looked over, and saw the danger. It chirped, and the fire suppression systems in the hallway activated, spraying fire retardant foam everywhere… except where Mission and T3 were. The trandoshans slipped and squealed, trying to regain their footing on the sleek marble flooring, now covered in several inches of even _more_ slippery foam_._

Mission pumped four shots into the face of the closest enemy, which simply pissed it off. She made a note to herself, that next time, she would have a much bigger blaster. She emptied the entire power back into the Trandoshan, finally killing it. She slipped a new power pack in place, but knew she was out of time. The other three lizards had regained their footing, and their weapons.

"Mission, drop!" someone shouted, and the girl didn't hesitate. _Something_ blasted past over her head, and the foam in the hallway exploded into a blinding blizzard of white specks, hurling the Trandoshans down the hall, until they crashed against the wall… where they slowly began to regain their feet.

"Persistent bastards," Kyle grumbled, skidding to a halt next to Mission like a holo-action star. He raised his blaster rifle, and fired a flurry of shots into the group thirty meters away… most of the shots connected too. Mission was suitably impressed, right up until he turned around to look behind him, and fell on his ass in a clatter of foamy plastoid.

"How's the door coming?" Carth asked.

T3 beeped indignantly at him.

"Just hurry up," Carth sighed, taking aim at the trandoshans.

((()))

Zaalbar ran down a corridor, followed by at least six other guards, who all thought his name was Kuuyek, a wookiee guard, who was actually off-duty tonight. Oh, his hair had been dyed in patches to imitate Kuuyek's pelt, but beyond that, he wasn't dressed any different. The mandalorian had assured him that only wookiees could tell each other apart.

"Kuuyek, slow down, damn it!" one of the human thugs complained.

"He's berserking, don't distract him," a second thug retorted.

He pounded around a corner, and saw a trio of Trandoshans trying to get to their feet amid a mound of fire retardant foam. Blaster shots sporadically slapped into them, causing screeches of pain. Zaalbar tried to stop, but he weighed nearly a hundred kilos… and he was moving _very_ quickly. Zaalbar yowled, his feet flying out from under him, and he bowled into the Trandoshans.

"Big Z's here," Mission chirped. The wookiee rose, clearly enraged _(and mortified, never a good combination)_, his fur covered in fire retardant foam… he looked ridiculous, which simply made him more terrifying. He ripped the head off one Trandoshan, and the arms from another.

"Watch out, he's lost it!" a thug shouted, and someone out of sight started shooting at Zaalbar… who used his armless Trandoshan as a shield, and advanced out of sight. Kyle heard screams, roars, and several blaster shots. The blasters fell silent, as did the screaming, but the roar only became louder.

"That's going to take _forever_ to get out of his fur…" Mission sighed when Zaalbar stalked back into view. Carth thought the wookiee looked like a wet tusk-cat… just as ill-tempered, miserable… and lethal.

T3 burbled, and the doors to the hanger opened.

Kyle ducked into the room, panning for targets, but he didn't see any in the massive room, unless they were hiding behind the landing gear of the ship that took up most of the space.

"Clear," he said.

T3-M4 trundled across the hanger, up to the boarding ramp of the freighter, and jacked in, starting to bypass the security measures.

Kyle quickly swept the perimeter of the room, but unless they were already onboard the ship, there weren't any hostiles in the hanger. He returned to the doorway, and stood guard.

Carth looked at the freighter with the critical eye of an experienced pilot.

It was a _Dynamic_-class light stock freighter, shaped like a coin, and twenty-four meters long. Three tines protruded forward from the coin. The left and right tines had a turbolaser cannon mounted to their sides, and the middle tine was larger, and had wrap-around windows, the cockpit. Carth saw the two massive engines integrated near the rear of the ship, and noted a pair of dual laser cannon turrets, mounted in the center of the ship, on her ventral and dorsal sides, which would give the ship a complete sphere of coverage.

In a word, she was possibly the most beautiful ship he'd ever seen. Oh, certainly she lacked the grace of most shuttles and certainly any fighter craft, but this girl… she was a _brawler._

"_Su'cuy gar,_" Kyle called, and Carth looked up as Canderous entered, lugging his heavy repeating blaster.

"What happened to you?" the mandalorian asked incredulously, catching sight of Zaalbar. The wookiee howled at him, shaking his bowcaster angrily.

"I'm not going to translate that," Kyle said flatly.

Carth checked his chrono. They had less than a minute before the sith fleet would be in position.

"T3, how much longer?" Carth demanded. A barrage of blaster shots slammed into Kyle and the door frame he was guarding.

"Sergeant!" Bastila shouted, pulling the wounded man to her with a surge of telekinesis. His chest armor was pitted and smoking.

"Oh…" Kyle groaned.

"What's this? _Thieves _in the hanger!" a man said, his voice dripping with indignation.

Bastila pulled off the commando's helmet, "Sergeant," she whispered. _Why hadn't she sensed the attack?_

"I'm fine, commander," the man lied, in obvious pain.

"You've been shot, repeatedly," Bastila protested.

"Yes sir," Draven grunted, trying to get up.

"So you figured you'd just steal my ship, and leave me high and dry while the Sith turn the planet into dust? _Sorry_, but that ain't going to happen." The unseen man snarled.

Bastila reached out through the force, and felt the other members of the group… as well as _another_ presence.

He was standing over to the left… but she didn't see anything.

_Your eyes, deceive you they can. Trust in the Force_.

Bastila reached and _pushed_. Suddenly, a man appeared, and stumbled.

"He's using a holo shroud" Mission shouted.

Holo shrouds were rather simple units, consisting of a holo camera mounted to the back of a belt, a power source, and several holo projectors on the front of the belt. These created a false holographic image several centimeters in front of the user, depicting whatever was _behind _them. Few military units used them, due to their high energy demands, and the stipulation that the wearer move slowly, otherwise the image would ripple. Far easier to simply rely on camouflage and training.

The man was wearing some kind of armored purple vest of a strangle iridescent material.

"He's got verpine mesh armor," Canderous grunted, leveling his heavy blaster, but several shots slapped into his helmet, nearly hitting his throat. The mandalorian ducked down behind a stack of supply crates.

"I've wanted to do this for a _long_ time, Canderous," a cold voice chuckled.

Standing in the entrance to the hanger was a short man.

"All I hear is _talk_, Calo!" Canderous shouted.

Calo Nord was a short man by_ any_ standard, barely reaching five feet in height… but hundreds of creatures had fallen to his precise aim. Mercenary, assassin, bounty hunter, sadist, psychopath… Calo Nord was all of these things. He was widely accepted as the best bounty hunter in the galaxy… a claim no one had managed to oppose successfully. He wore a loose blue jacket of rugged cloth, cut in a fashion popular on Kaut several years ago. Under that jacket, he openly wore a cuirass of mandalorian armor, a trophy from his first kill at the tender age of fifteen. A pair of IR goggles covered the man's eyes.

"You've become slow in your old age, Canderous," Calo said coldly, snapping off several shots at the other members of the infiltration team. Carth ducked behind one of the Ebon Hawk's landing struts. Davik regained his feet, and his gilded blaster pistol.

An alarm began chiming from Kyle's helmet, and the commando stiffly shoved it back on his head. The Sith fleet was in position.

Bastila couldn't feel the little man in the Force. She concentrated, and detected a faint flicker of his presence, but it was like a heat ripple. She tried to pull his blasters away, but she couldn't locate them. Something very strange was at work with the little man… and it frightened her, because she'd never heard of something like this. Carth snapped off a shot, hitting the man in the chest, but the armor held, it was mandalorian.

Bastila grabbed the man in the purple armor with an invisible fist, and lifted him off the deck.

"What the—"

Then she slammed him into the little man, sending them both down in a pile.

"Jedi!" the little man shouted.

Something hit the tower with enough force to throw everyone to the deck.

T3 beeped, and the boarding ramp of the Ebon Hawk lowered. Calo Nord saw this, and scrambled to his knees, rapidly firing at anyone who approached the boarding ramp.

"Go!" Canderous shouted, tucking his chin to his chest, wading out into the open, physically blocking the smaller bounty hunter's shots with his armored body. Ordo opened fire with his heavy repeating blaster, catching Calo Nord in the chest, throwing him against the wall from sheer rate of fire. Even in mid air, Calo returned fire, his shots slapping at Canderous's throat, blocked by the bottom of the lowered helmet.

Kyle grabbed Carth, and bodily escorted him up the ramp, shielding his captain with his armored body.

Calo lunged into the cover presented by the hanger doorway, out of Canderous's deadly hail. Mission and T3-M4 were next, followed by Zaalbar. Bastila was separated from the others by several meters of open deck. She couldn't anticipate Calo's shots, so she couldn't dodge…

"Mandalorian!" Bastila shouted.

Canderous strafed towards her, keeping his front towards Calo Nord, protecting his throat. Bastila jumped from behind her crate, and crouched behind the armored mercenary.

Calo popped around the door, and peppered the mandalorian, who returned fire with a punitive hail of bolts.

"We are _leaving_, princess!" Ordo shouted, and began sidestepping towards the open boarding ramp.

"I'll pay you triple, Canderous, just let me onboard!" The man in purple armor pleaded, crawling towards them. Canderous's reply reduced the man's head to pulp.

"No one cheats me, Davik."

Bastila was shocked by the casual brutality of the act, but not surprised. He was a mandalorian. They made it to the ramp, and scrambled into the safety of the ship. Bastila hit the switch to raise the ramp, which sealed with a satisfying thump.

She made her way to the cockpit, where Carth was hastily flipping switches and levers, already strapped into the pilot's station.

"I'll take navigation," Bastila said, pushing past Kyle, into the station beside Carth.

"We need people on the turrets," Carth said, distracted. Kyle slapped Canderous on the shoulder, who laughed, eager to lay waste to a worthy foe.

"What can I do?" Mission asked.

"Upload the launch codes to the communications station," Bastila said.

"Okay," Mission said, running out of the cockpit, and into the communications blister. She strapped into the console there, and whipped out her datapad.

Bastila felt the ship rise off the deck as Carth cut in the repulsortlifts, and effortlessly spun the ship to face the exterior hanger doors. The _closed_ exterior hanger doors.

"Have you noticed that the doors are sealed?" Bastila demanded.

"What doors?" Carth asked, arming the fixed turbolasers on the flanks of the ship. He pulled the trigger on his flight stick, and brilliant ruby light smashed into the doors, superheating the metal. Carth raised the freighter's shields, and whistled. The ship's defenses were four times stronger than standard. Then he goosed the engines, firing another barrage at the door, which shattered against the heavily reinforced bow shields, and the freighter was free. Scarlet turbolaser fire rained down from above. Kilometer high towers were crumbling and exploding everywhere, a bolt hit the hanger they'd just left, throwing the ship forward as something (likely the fuel tanks in the hanger) detonated.

"Hold on!" Carth shouted, pushing the engines to maximum, and hauling back on the flight stick, sending the Ebon Hawk clawing for the sky.

"Transmitting launch codes!" Mission shouted over the internal com system.

((()))

Trask coughed, even through the moist rag over his mouth, the dust was almost thick enough to choke him. Rubble rained from the "sky" as the group ran. Over the sounds of turbolaser bombardment and explosions, nothing could be heard. They were heading for the sewers.

The man on Trask's left was crushed by a piece of duracrete the size of a speeder, but Trask, Malya, and Shaleena were alive, so they kept running. Up ahead, Trask saw the hatch to the sewers, which was being held open by a Sith trooper, who was waving frantically for the rest of his squad to enter. Trask's stomach knotted, but he still had his knife, and his spear. He'd _die_ to get his people to safety.

The Sith Trooper saw him, but instead of sealing the door as he expected, the trooper beckoned to him as well, holding the hatch. Trask shoved his wife and sister in law ahead of him, into the sewer, and stood, mirroring the trooper, as the rest of the Outcasts plunged inside. Rubble rained down around them, but the trooper did not flinch, and together the two mortal enemies wrestled the hatch closed.

((()))

Kyle sat in the dorsal turret station, which afforded him an excellent view of the sith capital ships ahead of them as they climbed, and the devastation being wrought on the city behind them.

Canderous, in the ventral turret, signaled him, "_Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur!_" _((Today is a good day for someone else to die)) _or something to that effect.

"Fighters!" Carth exclaimed from the cockpit. Kyle could see the wiry craft swarming from the carriers. Each was automated, which made it capable of maneuvers that would kill a living pilot. They possessed a pair of light laser cannons, and lacked shields. They were fast though, highly maneuverable, and above all, attacked in _swarms_, not _squadrons_… and they were very _small_ targets.

"The capital ships have noticed us!" Carth updated over the com. The ship began weaving erratically as it climbed, avoiding the cumbersome heavy turbolasers of the Sith cruisers.

The fighter swarms though were another story.

"Last one to fifty buys the drinks!" Kyle roared, opening fire, vengeance burning in his veins.

_"Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade!_" Canderous crowed gleefully. _((Don't mess with mandalorians))_

Carth diverted power from the turbolasers, and pumped it into the shields, relying on the laser turrets to fend off the droid fighters. It's not like he could hit any with the turbolasers. The ship shuddered as a cruiser tried to lock a tractor beam onto them, but the thick swarm of Sith fighters disrupted the signal. Carth threw the ship into a tight starboard roll, smashing several fighters to scrap on the shields, and shot straight towards the nearest cruiser, hugging the hull as he flew. He heard a cry of annoyance from the mandalorian, whose field of fire was now devoid of targets.

"How's our jump?" Carth asked.

Bastila continued her calculations, "Plotting it now."

"We just need a short jump to the edge of the system!"

"We're still in Taris's gravity well," Bastila reminded him. An alarm sounded.

"Aft shields have fallen to thirty-seven percent," Bastila said calmly.

"Damn it…" Carth hissed, they'd run out of cruiser. He flashed back out into the open, and poured energy from life support, artificial gravity, sensors… anything that wasn't powering the guns or the shields he threw into the engines. He could hear the commando and Mandalorian shouting abuse at each other, but blocked it out.

"Jump set," Bastila exclaimed.

"Then jump, damn it!" Carth exclaimed.

"We're not out of the gravity well!" Bastila shot back. Something powerful slammed into the rear shields, and another alarm sounded,

"Aft shields have dropped to three percent," Bastila said calmly.

Another hit like that… Carth pumped power from the bow shields into the engines. One of the Sith fighters had tucked in close to the freighter's engines though, and was hammering the shields from their blind spot. Carth snarled, as the rear shields nearly collapsed. If the fighter damaged the engines…

_Now_. Kyle blinked, distracted from his shooting. _NOW_. Suddenly, the terrifying gut instinct resolved into a clear action. _**NOW**_! Kyle pressed a stud on his gauntlet, which transmitted a short range signal. This signal was received by a jury-rigged comlink, which proceeded to discharge its power cell… into a rather volatile laser-feedback regulator. The weapon exploded, and the fighter attached to it spiraled out of the Ebon Hawk's blind-spot… before a burst from the ventral laser cannons reduced it to debris.

"We're clear of the gravity well," Bastila said, pulling back smoothly on the lever next to her, and the stars elongated into the swirling blue streaks of hyperspace. Five seconds later, they dropped back into real space, at the extreme edge of the system.

"Plotting a six stage course for Dantooine," Bastila said.

She was in command, after all.

It took the navigation computer three minutes to crunch the numbers and plot the course, but the Ebon Hawk escaped long before any pursuit arrived.

((()))

One of the Sith Troopers had a glow rod, and activated it, illuminating the cramped tunnel.

"Who's in charge?" a Sith asked, tired.

Trask raised his hand, and the Trooper made his way through the cramped tunnel to him.

"I assume you speak Basic?" the trooper demanded.

Trask nodded slowly.

"For the moment, we seem to have a common enemy," the trooper observed.

"The Rakghouls," Trask agreed.

"You're the experts, what should we do first?" the trooper asked, clearly out of his depth.

"We need to post guards deeper in the sewers, or find some way to barricade that end… otherwise the Rakghouls will over run us," Trask said. The trooper nodded, and signaled two of the men in his patrol, and Trask sent four hunters with spears to accompany them.

"What's next?"

"The basics… food, water_, air…"_ Trask said grimly.


	7. Chapter 7: Refuge

Kyle climbed down out of his turret, and met Canderous on the way up from his.

"So, the targeting computer tallied my kills. Final count, fifty-seven."

Canderous chuckled, "Now, that's not bad… for a soldier of a stagnant Republic…"

"And what did _you_ get?" Kyle challenged.

"I myself shot down fifty-six fighters…" the mandalorian laughed, "but I reached fifty _before_ you did."

Kyle shook his head ruefully, "Not bad… for a mandalorian."

Canderous held out his hand, and Kyle shook it.

"Huh, first time that's ever happened," the mandalorian grunted.

"Probably. Shall we see where we're going?" Kyle asked, jerking his head at the corridor that led to the cockpit.

"Can't have them crashing the ship," Ordo sighed.

"We don't have escape pods," Kyle agreed.

"Hah! Escape pods… I remember a time…"

((()))

Carth unstrapped from the pilot's station, and heard the mandalorian approaching,

"The launch bay was damaged, and we didn't have any drop ships… we crammed into the escape pods, four warriors to a pod, and launched in _those_. No heavy support, no reinforcements, no extraction! It was glorious. We landed among the defenders, and tore into them… when we ran out of ammo, we used _their _weapons! Ah… good times…"

"What was the planet called? I don't recall ever hearing about it…" the commando said.

"It was past the outer rim, in the Unknown regions. Heh, _unknown regions_, unknown to _your_ people, certainly."

Carth stood, and glanced at Bastila. They had the ship now. If the mandalorian betrayed them, it would be now.

He popped the strap on his holster, ready to draw, on a moment's notice. Bastila had also left the co-pilot's station, and was leaning against the viewport.

Kyle entered a half step behind the armored man, who came to a halt, spotting the stance of the officer and jedi.

"So what? You don't need me now? Just going to cast me off?" Canderous demanded, his hands loose at his sides.

"You turned on your last employer," Bastila pointed out frigidly.

"Are you paying me?" Ordo shot back.

"I suppose not…" Bastila admitted. A fifth presence entered the cockpit, which began to feel very cramped. Zaalbar grumbled softly, eyeing the mandalorian warily.

"Besides, Davik cheated me, he got what was coming to him," the merc said easily.

"So, what's your plan?" Carth demanded.

Canderous glanced around the cockpit, "Beyond getting off Taris, I didn't have one. My options are… flexible… at the moment."

"Why would we need someone like _you?_" Carth sneered.

"Commander… our… delay… at Taris not withstanding, has our mission profile changed?" Kyle asked suddenly.

"Well… no…" Bastila admitted.

"Then we need him, sir," Kyle said bluntly.

"Soon we will be back in Republic space. Our mission can continue, we just need to appropriate another ship—" Bastila started, but Carth cut her off, "Commander… that didn't work last time, I don't see how repeating our mistakes will improve the situation."

"What do you suggest?" Bastila snapped. She was _tired_ of her every decision being picked apart and ridiculed.

"Respectfully sir, we have a ship," Carth said.

"This old tub?" Bastila asked, incredulous.

"Commander, we just escaped a Sith fleet… the same fleet that destroyed my ship. We couldn't have escaped in the Endar Spire… but we did escape on this _old tub_." Carth said flatly.

"The mission briefing I received indicated I would be responsible for coordinating troopers in covert aerial insertions, to raid Sith data centers," Sergeant Draven said bluntly.

"That is correct, sergeant," Bastila admitted.

"A mandalorian's worth ten republic marines on a good day, twenty on a bad day, and thirty if he's entrenched," Kyle continued.

"Twenty? Only twenty?" Ordo grumbled.

"But… how can we trust him? He's a mercenary!" Carth objected.

"And he's _mando'ade_," Kyle said firmly.

"See? He understands," Canderous said smugly, pointing at Kyle.

"Sergeant, the mandalorians are little more than animals. I was at Serrecco, I saw what they did to the people there!" Carth snarled.

"Those who cannot fight have no business being around those who can!" Canderous shouted back, "You placed your military bases in the center of cities, because you thought we wouldn't use appropriate force against you!"

"You used nuclear weapons against those cities," Carth said coldly, "You killed millions, innocent and soldier alike."

"We had to teach you the error of your ways, or else more innocents would have died." Canderous hissed.

"Captain!" Kyle roared, and everyone turned to look at the sergeant in surprise.

"Permission to speak freely?" he asked, in a normal volume.

"Feel free," Carth said, rattled.

"Thank you sir," Kyle said, and squared his shoulders, "We do not need to decide anything at the moment. When we arrive at our destination, I'm sure Canderous can find another ship to carry him somewhere else if he chooses," Kyle said slowly.

"Maybe I like _this_ ship," Canderous pointed out.

"He'll kill us in our sleep," Carth hissed.

"I leave that to Republic soldiers," Ordo sniffed.

"Canderous, will you agree to a truce, until both sides decide to terminate it?" Kyle asked.

"Sure," the big man shrugged. He didn't care.

"Now, can someone help me find the med bay?" Kyle asked, tiredly.

"It's near the center of the ship, aft of the main hold," Canderous told him. Kyle nodded, and left the cockpit.

"You're all idiots," Canderous said shaking his head, "But he's _mando'karla_."

((()))

Kyle hissed when he removed his chestplate. The blaster bolts had nearly penetrated the reinforced plastoid. He peeled his body glove down to his waist, and inspected the damage. Four pale patches of skin marked second degree burns, and were already starting to blister. He had been lucky. If Davik had aimed for his head, he would have died. He found a medkit, and set on the edge of the biomed bed that took up most of the small room's space. He pulled some kolto patches out of the case, and peeled the backings off, applying the adhesive patches over the burns. The metabolizing healing agents bound in the adhesive began to increase the rate his tissues divided, and long acting local painkillers began to seep into his skin.

"Nice scars," Mission said, watching from the hatch.

"Are you all right?" Kyle asked, watching the girl. She'd just seen her world destroyed. He knew she wasn't alright… but did she know?

"Have you ever… ever seen something like that before?" Mission asked.

"No… but Captain Onasi has… I can't understand what you're going through… but he might," Kyle said softly. Mission nodded, a lump in her throat, and left the commando to his work.

((()))

Carth was alone in the cockpit when he heard light footfalls behind him. He looked over his shoulder, and saw Mission standing in the hatch, staring at her feet.

"Hey, Mission," Carth said gently, and returned to his diagnostic. She'd talk when she was ready.

The girl came in, and sat in the co-pilot's station staring out the view port. The minutes passed, and Carth had almost forgotten she'd come in, as he started a third level diagnostic on the starboard engine coupling when she suddenly spoke, startling him,

"How… how do things change so fast?"

Carth didn't answer, he just sat, and listened. Sometimes, that all you could do.

"This morning I was so excited to get off Taris… I mean, I could always go back… but now… there is no Taris…" Carth could see the tears, but he remained silent.

"I can't believe it's gone! I mean, I grew up there and now its… it's just gone! I saw it happen… but it's not real, you know?" Mission whispered.

"Malak will pay for what he did, Mission," Carth said quietly.

"Yeah… I know. The Jedi got rid of Revan, so I figure Malak's days are numbered too… but that doesn't make the pain go away, you know?" Mission choked.

Carth squeezed her shoulder.

"Look, I'm not saying I can't go on or anything like that. It's just… it's a shock. I mean, I knew the Sith were evil and all, but the reality of it kind of slaps you in the face," Mission whispered, but she couldn't stop the tears.

"Shhh…" Carth sighed, and pulled the scared little girl into his arms, and held her while she cried. She tried to act so grown up… but she was still a child… and it broke Carth's heart, to know that this child had just lost the last delusion of innocence: _the bad guys never win_.

((()))

Kyle found T3-M4 digging around in one of the power transfer junctions.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

The droid spat a slurry of beeps, whistles, and annoyed sounding wails at the commando, who raised his hands defensively, "All right, of course there's something wrong, absolutely."

The droid beeped cheekily at him.

"Carry on," Kyle chuckled, backing away from the irate utility droid.

"All hands, this is the captain, we'll be entering real space for the second leg of our journey momentarily…" Carth said over the intercom.

Kyle explored the freighter. It had two dormitories, port, and starboard, that were fitted into the tines of the ship. Each held three bunks, which lifted up on hinges, revealing space beneath them for personal effects. Canderous had already claimed a bunk in the starboard dormitory, and since his heavy repeating blaster was nowhere in evidence, Kyle had a pretty good idea where it was.

The ship had two aft cargo holds, but there were only a handful of crates and supplies in them. Kyle checked, but most were basic supplies, such as replacement parts, provisions, water… nothing to get excited about. He found a tool bench tucked against the wall in the starboard cargo hold.

The communications blister, which opened off the corridor that led to the bridge, had actually been renovated, and contained an extensive library.

The pitch of the engines changed and a few moments later, resumed, marking the next leg of the hyperspace journey. Kyle found a bunk, and crawled in, falling asleep in his armor. He was just too tired to remove it. Bastila, watching from the hatch nodded, and began her meditations, stretching out to the commando's sleeping mind…

((()))

Bastila walked beside the dreaming man, in a world of shifting mists and shadows. Voices from the past came to them in the mist, sometimes with bodies, but usually without a discernable source. Many were panicked, or in pain. Some were eager.

Most of the voices seemed to be from the Mandalorian wars.

Bastila touched a hand to her companion's shoulder, and whispered, _Malak_.

The mists faded with startling speed, hurling both shapes into the middle of a memory.

"Alek! Hold the left flank until the 32nd fighter wing can hit those guns!" a man snapped, standing at the helm of a republic battleship. Wings of sleek Aurek-class fighters flashed past his viewport, to engage the motley assortment of fighters the Mandalorians had thrown up as a screen around their dreadnaughts.

The deck shook beneath them, causing all but Bastila to stumble.

"Report!" Revan shouted.

A republic officer looked up from his screen, "We just lost starboard maneuvering thrusters!"

"Just a little more…" Revan whispered, then turned to another officer, "Status of the _Alector?_"

"Reporting massive external damage, but engines remain online, and maneuverability at forty-seven percent.

"And General Surik?" Revan asked.

"… she reports readiness."

"32nd reports guns are down!" a junior officer shouted.

Revan spun to a bridge officer, pointing at him, "Signal the _Alector_!"

He continued to snap out orders, a strangely calm tornado of activity.

Bastila stood at his side, and examined the man in profile. This was before his fall to the darkside… he wore his signature mask beneath his hood. She glanced out the panoramic viewport, and saw a republic cruiser charge into the midst of the mandalorian fleet. Armor plating and hull melted away under the weakened guns of the dreadnaughts, but the angle was awkward for the bigger ship's guns to depress low enough to hit, and the smaller ship survived…

Escape pods showered from the dying ship, but instead of orienting to fall to the planet below, they veered wildly, slamming into the ships around it, each pod detonating with unbelievable force. What had he done?

Bastila did not understand.

"The escape pods were loaded with thermacrete munitions, and programmed to read Mandalorian vessels as planetary landing zones," a voice told her.

Bastila's head snapped up, and she realized Revan was addressing _her_.

This wasn't part of the memory. This was spontaneous.

Then the memory resumed, and Revan no longer perceived her, leaving the young Jedi shaken. She returned her gaze to the viewport, and saw that three of the massive Mandalorian dreadnaughts were venting atmosphere and fire. A swarm of republic shuttles shot through the sudden hole in the mandalorian formation, diving for the jungle below.

"Alek, increase the pressure on the left flank," Revan said.

"I'll lose half of my ships!" a man retorted over the comlink, dismayed, and with a chill, Bastila recognized Malak's voice.

"Do it." Revan said grimly.

"General Surik reports the beachhead secure, but she lost nine shuttles. She's coming under heavy resistance by the Mandalorians, who are hitting them from the surrounding jungle," a communications officer called.

"Redirect the 27th fighter wing for close ground support," Revan said, "we _must_ take Dxun."

Bastila felt the memory fade, back into the swirling mists. Once again, she stood next to an indeterminate shadow. She sifted through more of his memories and dreams, until she finally found something…

Revan stood in a grand soaring chamber of unknown architecture. Mist and shadow clung to every surface, concealing the pictographs inscribed into the very walls.

A tall man with a shaved head and silver tattoos stood beside the hooded Revan. Bastila recognized Malak immediately, but this was before whatever incident had removed the man's jaw.

"The darkside is strong in this place – I can feel its power…" Malak said, uncomfortable. Revan was deep in thought though, running his gloved fingers across the inscription on a door.

"Is this wise? The ancient Jedi sealed this archway," Malak said, nervous.

"We have no choice…" Revan said sadly, peering closer at a particular set of pictographs.

"If we pass beyond this door… we can never go back," Malak pointed out.

"Yes, my friend… the Order will likely banish us," Revan agreed. He pressed his palm to the door, and sent a tendril of the Force into the ancient stone. Pictographs began to flare with light randomly (it seemed), and the door groaned open.

The room beyond was completely devoid of light… as if something had consumed it. Bastila felt her skin crawl, just as Revan's had… but he stepped into the darkness boldly, challenging it.

"Are the secrets of the Star Forge so valuable? Can its power truly be worth the risk?" Malak asked, following his master reluctantly.

Revan looked at Malak slowly.

"Yes."

The memory began to fragment, but Bastila caught sight of a sudden glow at the far side of the room… but then the memory escaped in a swirl of pain.

((()))

"I haven't heard anything fall or hit the ground for a couple hours," Hester whispered from where she stood by the hatch.

"You think the Sith bombardment is over?" Trask asked.

"Probably," Pt. Sarna whispered, pulling her Sith helmet back on.

"Well, let's take a look," Trask shrugged.

The hatch was slightly deformed, but with a little persuasion from the trio, the heavy metal shifted, and clicked open. It was bright outside.

Trask was the first out, followed by the Sith, then Hester, who shielded her eyes.

"Shaleena! Malya!" Trask called. As they scrambled out, Trask held out his hand, mountains of rubble surrounded them… and above them the sun was rising, a swirl of reds and oranges… beautiful…

"Welcome… to the Promised Land," Trask whispered, kissing Malya, while her sister stared at the sky… it was more than she'd ever dreamed… And so the prophecy over a hundred years in the making came to pass… and the spirit of Old Rukil smiled, and faded into the Force, finally, at peace.

((()))

Carth opened the intercom, "Attention, we have arrived at Dantooine, prepare for descent."

Bastila reached the cockpit, and strapped into the co-pilot's seat. Out of the viewport, she could see the distant planet, like a green marble.

"Dantooine… it seems like a lifetime since I last set foot on its surface," Bastila sighed.

Carth ignored her, double checking his systems.

"In truth, it's only been a few months. We should be safe from Malak here, for now, at least."

Carth looked at her skeptically, "_Safe?_ You saw what his fleet did to Taris, there wasn't a building left standing over two stories high! They turned the planet into one big pile of rubble."

"Even the Sith would think twice before attacking Dantooine," Bastila said firmly, "There are _many_ Jedi here, some of them the most powerful members of the Jedi order. There is great strength in this place."

"I fail to see how that will protect them from an orbital bombardment, unless they can deflect turbolasers with their lightsabers," Carth muttered.

"We can get supplies here and recuperate," Bastila said, "and the Academy is a place of mental and spiritual healing… something I think we can all use after our ordeal."

"Maybe you're right," Carth admitted, Dantooine now filled most of the view port.

"It isn't easy witnessing the annihilation of an entire planet…" he sighed.

"Mission will find a way to come to terms with her grief," Bastila said, trying to reassure the captain. "She is stronger than she appears… we just need to give her time."

Carth nodded. They were signaled by the Enclave, and Carth transmitted their registry and destination.

((()))

Carth followed the automated beacon, and carefully cut out the engines, and engaged the repulsorlifts, setting down in the designated landing bay. He begin shutting down the ship's systems, while Bastila left the cockpit. Kyle was already waiting at the boarding ramp. He looked like he was about to conduct a beachhead assault, or insertion into hostile territory. He'd evidently raided one of the ship's personal foot lockers, and was now wearing the clothes of (most likely) a dead man. Buckled to his waist was his commando issue utility belt, as well as holster. She thought she saw the bulge of his knife under the false leather vest he wore.

"Sergeant, I doubt you'll find any Sith in the enclave," Bastila chided.

The man shrugged, "That's why I'm not bringing the rifle, sir."

Canderous joined them, and although he lacked his monstrous weapon, he still carried his blaster and vibro-sword openly. Bastila hit the switch for the ramp, and was the first one off. Their landing bay was mostly deserted, aside from a handful of utility droids and sensor drones.

"You may go where you wish, but keep your comlinks on, so that I may contact you," Bastila said, "I must go speak with the Jedi council, I need their advice on… recent developments. After I've met with them, I'll meet you outside the ship."

((()))

Canderous looked over at the commando, "You still owe me that drink," he said, reminding him.

"_Mando'ad draar digu,"_ Kyle sighed. _((A mandalorian never forgets))_

"Right you are… now, if I were a monastic spoon bender, where would I keep my liquor…" Canderous mused.

"We could always ask…" Kyle suggested reasonably.

"Where's the fun in that?" Ordo snorted.

((()))

Bastila bowed deeply as she was ushered before the Council. Now this was not _the_ Jedi High council of twelve, on Coruscant, but the council of Dantooine was almost as influential. A diminutive Jedi master looked up from his meditation, "Ah, Bastila, returned you have."

"Master Vandar… I believe there is a problem…" Bastila stammered.

"How so?" Master Vrook asked, sitting down in his chair.

"Kyle Draven has started to exhibit sporadic signs of Force sensitivity," Bastila said, afraid.

"I fail to see how this is cause for alarm," Vrook said, "Without training he is more a danger to himself than others, and we anticipated that he might still have connections to the Force."

"But that's just it, master, sometimes, when I touch him through the Force, I feel the presence of a fellow Jedi, not_ just_ a force adept," Bastila explained.

"What mean you?" Vandar asked, his green ears twitching.

"As per your orders, whenever Kyle is asleep, I have been using his dreams to access the dormant sections of Revan's mind. Sometimes, Kyle touches back,"

"Kyle… or Revan?" Vrook asked grimly.

"There is no taint of the darkside in the probe, so I assume it must be Kyle," Bastila answered slowly.

"Is Kyle aware of this?" Vrook asked.

"Subconsciously perhaps, but he is not _consciously_ aware of my intrusions."

"At this time, reason to discontinue, there is not," Vandar decided.

"Actually, masters, I think I may have seen something…" Bastila said.

She told them of Revan's memory, of the ancient ruins, the architecture, and the pictographs.

Master Dorak, the Chronicler of the Enclave, shifted in his seat,

"Your description matches the ancient burial mounds to the east of the Enclave… Perhaps they are more than we first suspected, if Revan and Malak found something there."

Master Zhar nodded slowly, "Whatever dangers may lie ahead, we cannot ignore the destiny that has brought you and Revan here to us. _Together_. You and he are linked, as is your fate to his. Together, you two may be able to stop Darth Malak, and the Sith."

Master Vrook frowned, as if he had a sour taste in his mouth, "But do not let your head be filled with visions of glory and power. Such thoughts are the path to the darkside. The way of the light is long and difficult as you well know. Are you ready for such hardship?" Bastila could feel the weight of his judgmental stare… and did not believe she came out favorably.

"Little choice in the matter, there is. Decreed the Council has, that you and Revan, investigate the ruins, ones must be. Ready you are not, however," Master Vandar said heavily.

Master Dorak nodded slowly, "Perhaps there you will find some clue, some explanation of how Revan and Malak were corrupted… and a way to stop them."

Vrook stood from his chair, "The force flows through you like no apprentice we have ever seen, but you are willful and headstrong. A dangerous combination."

Vandar nodded in agreement, "Before sent to the ruins you are, pass your trials you must."

"Surely there is no time," Bastila protested.

"Although you have informally held the rank of a knight, due to your power, we feel it necessary to put you through the trials… some things must be done for their own sake," Master Dorak said, smiling softly.

"The trials will strengthen you, so that you can resist the darkness that is within yourself… within all of us. Otherwise you are doomed to fail," Zhar replied.

Bastila bowed, "As you wish, Masters."

Zhar rose from his chair, "We must begin your trials at once. You have a destiny upon you that you must be prepared to face. The entire fate of the galaxy is upon you."

As Zhar led Bastila from the room, she heard Master Vrook mutter, "I can only hope you will prove up to the task…"

((()))

Zhar stopped in the training room, and turned to Bastila, "These trials will determine if you have truly mastered the training you have been given, both mental and physical. Upon completing these trials you will pass from padawan to Knight. First I will test your knowledge of the Jedi code. These tenants must always guide your actions. Everything you do, you must always be conscious of their wisdom."

"I am ready, Master Zhar," Bastila said.

Zhar nodded, "There is no emotion…"

"There is peace."

"There is no ignorance…"

"There is knowledge."

"There is no passion…"

"There is serenity."

"There is no chaos…"

"There is harmony."

"There is no death…"

"There is the Force," Bastila finished.

Zhar nodded to her, but the test had been little more than a formality. All Jedi were taught the code until they could recite it without hesitation. There had been no way to fail.

"Now, the second test. You must construct your final lightsaber, alone. This time you will not have a mentor assisting you," Zhar said. Bastila nodded.

"You still know where to find the caves, correct, padawan?"

Bastila nodded, "I do, master,"

"Bastila, should you wish it, I can ask one of the padawans to accompany you to the caves," Master Zhar offered, indicating with the tip of a _lekku _her lack of lightsaber.

"Thank you Master, but with the Force as my ally, I am never truly alone," Bastila said.

"Then go, and may the Force guide you," the older Jedi chuckled, watching her depart.

((()))

"I'm not sure this is technically legal," Kyle shouted over the wind.

"Shut up and fly!" Canderous bellowed back. The pair had _borrowed_ an enclave speeder from the motor pool, and was heading towards the nearby capital city of Dantooine, _Garang_.

The capital was one of the few actual settlements large enough to be called a city. Most of Dantooine's surface was divided into private farms, tended to by individual families, most of them colonists. It meant though, that the populace was spread thinly across the entire planet. This made the colonists rugged, independent, and wary of trespassers.

Kyle's first impression of Garang was how… small… it was.

"They think this is the big city," Canderous chuckled, jerking his chin at the people who had stopped to stare at the mandalorian.

"After Taris, this is… somewhat petty…" Kyle observed.

"They've _got_ to have a bar or cantina somewhere though…" Canderous grumbled.

"I still think we should ask," Kyle said.

"That's cheating… unless it's an interrogation…" the mando looked at the commando.

"No. We're not beating it out of anyone."

Kyle wondered what he'd gotten himself into this time.

((()))

Carth thanked the dock master for his time, and the Twi'lek promised to have the requisitioned supplies in the docking bay by 0300 tomorrow. Mission watched the exchange quietly, lost in thought.

"I kind of remember the Mandalorian wars. It was mostly hiding, and moving to new places at night…" Mission said, "Is this war as bad as that one?"

Carth stared out into the middle distance, "No Mission… this one is worse…"

((()))

Kyle ordered the drinks, and carried them back to the booth Canderous had picked. It was in the corner, with a clear view of the rest of the cantina, and the entrance. Kyle approved.

"Alright, as promised," Kyle said passing the mandalorian his mug.

The man popped the seals on his helmet, and propped it on the table next to him.

Kyle had been expecting to see a man whose face was covered in scars. Instead, the man had a few thin scars on his face, which looked more like knife wounds than anything else, and his short cropped hair was steel gray. The face itself was best described as rugged.

"Not what you expected?" the man chuckled.

"Not enough scars," Kyle shrugged.

"Ha. Our armor's tough, anything strong enough to breach it usually doesn't leave the man in it alive," Canderous scoffed. He hefted his mug, "_K'oyacyi!" ((cheers!)) _then took a swig of his ale.

((()))

Bastila tried the comlink again, but the sergeant wasn't responding. She found Carth, sleeping on the ship, "We have a problem."

"What?" the captain asked, coming awake in almost an instant.

"I can't raise the sergeant on his comlink, and when I asked after his whereabouts, one of the protocol droids mentioned seeing him leave the enclave in a speeder, with the mandalorian… possibly under duress…" Bastila said, worried.

"That's probably not good…" Carth muttered, searching for his boots.

What he couldn't figure out, was why the commander was so worried. Logically, Sergeant Draven's loss was a blow, but he was a commando. He could conceivably be replaced… and the woman had certainly never shown this amount of concern for himself, or the other soldiers under her command. It was probably nothing… but Carth couldn't shake the feeling that something more was going on.

"If they took a speeder, the enclave should be able to track it," Carth said.

"Oh, I hadn't… I hadn't considered that," Bastila said, embarrassed.

((()))

Carth kept the speeder at maximum velocity, shooting across the empty grasslands. Two moons hung in the sky, creating enough ambient light that Carth hardly needed the headlamps of the speeder to navigate.

Bastila sat in the passenger seat, her hands carefully folded in her lap, and although she appeared calm, Carth didn't buy it. She should have been admonishing him for exceeding the specified safe speed for this area, but she wasn't.

And that was making _him_ worried.

((()))

_"Vhett areutti!"_ Canderous bellowed, drunkenly dodging a punch from a native farmer, whose arms were bigger around than the mandalorian's head. Ordo staggered forward, and headbutted the equally inebriated giant's nose, which snapped in an explosion of blood.

"_K'atini!_" the mandalorian snarled, burying a knee in the stunned farmer's belly. Both of them lost their balance and fell to the floor.

Kyle picked himself up off the floor, shoving his dazed opponents off of him. He'd only had the one drink… but Canderous had downed nearly twelve of the bitter ales, and was still conscious… although Kyle hadn't been able to get a word of Basic out of the man after the seventh mug.

Once Canderous was clearly _tipsy_, some of the farmers had taken offense to his language, and decided he needed a lesson in Basic.

So Canderous was helpfully schooling them in _mando'a_… but his students were slow learners.

One of the farmers tried to get back up, and Kyle kicked him in the head, dropping him back to the dirty floor.

Canderous tottered back to the table, grinning, inordinately pleased with himself.

"_Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade!"_ the man spat, hitting one of the dazed farmers.

He reached for his half empty thirteenth mug, but Kyle grabbed his shoulder,

"I think that's enough," Kyle said firmly.

"_Usenye!" _Ordo grumbled. He pushed past Kyle, snatching the mug off the table, and gulped it down, hurling the empty mug to the floor, where it shattered.

_"Kandosii…_" the man sighed, in appreciation for the ale.

"_Udesii_," Kyle said soothingly _((take it easy / calm down))_

Kyle grabbed the man's helmet off the table, and threw Canderous's arm over his shoulder, supporting the tottering man out of the cantina.

"_K'uur!"_ _((hush!)) _Kyle snapped when Canderous started to grumble.

At this time of night, most of the population was asleep, which was a good thing, considering how obnoxious Ordo was being, thankfully, Draven was the only one there who knew enough _mando'a_ to be insulted.

Draven half-hoped the man would pass out. True, he'd be dead weight, but it might have been easier to _carry _him back to the speeder.

They passed another bar, and Canderous tried to veer off into it,

"_Hukaat'kama," ((watch my back / back me up))_ but Kyle was having none of it.

A speeder came to a halt in front of them, parking on the pedestrian walkway. That raised alarms for Kyle, and he scrabbled for his blaster, blocked by Canderous's body.

"Sergeant!" someone shouted, and Kyle didn't draw his sidearm, but his hand didn't leave it either. Bastila moved in front of the headlamps and Kyle relaxed.

"I tried contacting you, why didn't you respond?" Bastila demanded.

Kyle reached into his vest and found his comlink, pulling it out. It had been cracked open, the two halves connected only by pieces of circuit board and wire.

"So _that's _what broke…" Kyle sighed.

Bastila noted the fresh bruises and scrapes on the commando's face and hands.

"Have you been… _fighting?_" she asked, shocked.

"It wasn't my idea," Kyle said defensively.

"_Jettai or'dinii,"_ Canderous complained.

"_K'uur! Canderous haryc b'aalyc!"_ Kyle snapped. _((shut up Canderous, you're "tired and emotional" (drunk)))_

Bastila stood, fists planted on her hips and peered between the two men. She could smell alcohol.

Carth was smart. He stayed in the speeder.

"You've embarrassed the Jedi order, and _me_ with this little stunt," the jedi seethed.

"No ma'am," Kyle said firmly, startling the young woman.

"I'm not in uniform, and I'm not on duty. I have broken no regulation, or laws. The harm I inflicted was in self-defense, and is easily reversible,"

"Get in the speeder. _Now_." Bastila said.

"Yes, ma'am," Kyle said flatly, and hauled his grumbling passenger along with him, more or less dumping the armored man into the back seat. By the time they were on their way back to the enclave, Canderous was snoring.

((()))

"Do you deny that you left the enclave without permission?" Bastila demanded, glaring up at Kyle. The commando glared straight ahead, standing at parade rest in the main hold.

"No, sir," he barked.

"Explain!" Bastila snapped.

"You dismissed us on the stipulation that we maintain an active comlink, which I did, sir." Kyle said. _(Right up until I got hit by that chair…)_

"You were not to leave the enclave!" Bastila snarled.

"Then your orders were unclear, sir," Kyle said, his eyes meeting hers.

"I'm putting you on report. Dismissed," Bastila snapped.

Wordlessly the commando spun on his heel and stalked away. She could feel his resentment like a mild sunburn.

((()))

"A little harsh, commander," Carth observed.

"Don't you start too. I am still in command of this mission," Bastila snapped.

"Is that what this is about?" Carth asked, surprised.

"Every time I turn around, either you or the sergeant is arguing with me! Would it be so hard just to do as you're told?" Bastila asked, tired.

"Commander… can I talk with you in the cockpit, privately?" Carth asked quietly.

The captain closed the hatch, cutting their conversation off from the rest of the ship.

"What's really going on, commander?" Carth asked.

"Nothing is _going_ on," Bastila said testily.

"I understand you're under a lot of pressure, for whatever this mission is, but you shouldn't take it out on those under your command," Carth told her carefully.

"I'm not taking anything out on anyone," Bastila said, her voice calmer.

"Really… which is why you arbitrarily decided to put sergeant Draven on report?" Carth asked pointedly.

"It was his decision to accompany the _mandalorian_ to the cantina. There are consequences," Bastila replied carefully.

"Commander, what if _I_ had been the one with Kyle, not Canderous?" Carth asked.

"That is neither here nor there—"

"Commander, can I say what I think happened?" Carth interrupted.

"You'll tell me anyway," Bastila growled.

"True. Now, here's what I think. I think Sergeant Draven is important in some way, and doesn't know it. I think the council is using him as a pawn in some sort of plan they've concocted. I think _you_ thought the mandalorian had done something to him, or that Kyle had endangered himself needlessly. I _think_ you're keeping secrets from us," Carth said, crossing his arms.

Bastila crossed her own arms, "Of course I'm keeping secrets, they're called _need to know_ for a reason."

"All I'm saying, is if you want to _lead _your troops, you need to gain their respect. You can't demand it, because of your rank, it has to be _earned_," Carth said, letting himself out of the cockpit.

((()))

The next morning, when Carth woke up, he found Bastila gone… but he did smell something in the main hold. He followed his nose, and found Zaalbar in the galley, slapping together Corellian flat-cakes from scratch.

Carth stopped in the hatch, and stared. The wookiee had managed to get most of the foam out of his fur, and was now wearing a cooking apron, which was clearly too small for him.

Mission was busy brewing a pot of caf, and didn't notice the captain's arrival.

"So, why do you think Bastila's so mean?" Mission wondered.

The wookiee rumbled something, and the twi'lek giggled.

"Mission, if that caf tastes as good as it smells, I'll promote you," Carth yawned, sitting down at the nearby table.

T3-M4 rolled by complaining about something. It held a container in its grasper arm.

"See Zaalbar, we _do_ have _boolong_ syrup," Mission said smugly, taking the canister from the utility droid. She patted it on the head, "Thank you Tee-three."

The droid rolled away, still complaining, but with less enthusiasm.

"So, Carth, were the Mandalorian wars as bad as this war? Give it to me straight," Mission asked, serving a stack of flat-cakes to the captain.

Carth took a bite first, before answering, "As bad as the Mandalorians were, their atrocities weren't as senseless as the wholesale slaughter these Sith animals can unleash."

"What do you mean?" Mission asked, handing him the syrup.

"My home world was the first planet to fall to Malak's fleet. The Sith bombed it into submission, and there wasn't a damn thing my forces could do to stop them," Carth said angrily glaring at his flat-cakes.

"Hey, why are you getting all mad at me? It's not like it was my fault!" Mission protested.

Carth sighed, and rubbed his eyes, "I know that, I'm not angry at you… don't think that. I'm just not used to talking about my past very much. At all, really."

Mission was quiet as she poured more batter on the heating element. She'd never seen the quiet man's emotions so raw. She'd definitely hit something sensitive. He wasn't quite awake yet, so he wasn't as guarded as normal.

"Sorry, Mission. I'm just a soldier. I go where the fleet admirals tell me to. I follow my orders and I do my duty… sometimes, that just isn't enough," Carth said bitterly, and stabbed his food with a little more energy than necessary.

"Sorry," Mission said meekly.

"Listen, if you have more questions, ask them later," Carth sighed.

((()))

Bastila found the entrance to the cave easily. She had been here once before… nearly eight years ago. Except then she had been one of many padawans, and had never before held a true lightsaber, beyond low-powered training sabers.

The darkness of the cave was dimly illuminated by the bioluminescent lichen and crystal deposits that clung to nearly every surface. For as long as the Enclave had existed, its students had ventured out and explored the multitude of caves, some containing crystals suitable for the creation of a lightsaber… but some caves were more dangerous than others. In the gloom, a creature with too many legs slowly uncurled, and began to stalk the young Jedi.

Bastila could sense the Kinrath easily, but chose to ignore it… for now. She kept an eye on her pursuer, but also stretched out her awareness, searching for a particular resonance…

_There_.

Bastila moved to the rock formation, and inspected both crystals closely. They were of similar size and clarity. It was vanity, but she had chosen both with the same color, yellow, to match her earlier weapon (still lying broken somewhere upon the surface of Taris). With a careful tug, she dislodged them from the lichen they had grown from.

((()))

Kyle sat in the enclave's massive garden, admiring the blooms on the drooping tree limbs, the quiet trickle of the fountains…

"You there, padawan. Why are you not wearing the customary robes of the Jedi?" a woman asked, irritated.

Kyle looked up from the pool, and then looked around for the unlucky soul… but he didn't see anyone else.

"Are you talking to me?" Kyle asked.

"Do you mock the honored traditions of our order?" the young woman demanded, stopping short of Kyle and glaring down at him.

"I am not a Jedi," Kyle said. This woman might be a Jedi, but he saw no rank insignia, as such, he did not have to refer to her as sir, as he did with Bastila, who had been given the rank of commander.

It also meant that he didn't have to sit here and take any abuse from her either… and she reminded him just a little too much of Bastila.

"You claim you are not a padawan?" the woman asked, incredulous.

"I find that hard to believe, the Force is strong in you, I can feel its presence… if this is some sort of jest, it is in very _poor_ taste," the woman said sharply.

"I am telling the truth," Kyle said. He stood up, and began to walk away.

"Where are you going? I am not finished!" the young woman said.

"Perhaps, but _I'm_ finished with _you_," Kyle said sharply, shocking the young woman into silence.

He almost reached the docking bay before the woman caught up with him again, walking quickly. She stepped in front of him and stopped, forcing him to either walk into her, or halt.

So he halted, and crossed his arms.

"No one has _ever_ spoken to me with such insolence," she hissed.

"Then you have led a very sheltered life, now, please, stop bothering me," Kyle said, and stepped around the woman. It felt good leaving her sputtering in the garden. Petty, but good.

((()))

"Is this a good time to ask you some more questions?" Mission asked.

Carth looked up from the work bench, where his blaster was disassembled while he cleaned it, "I can't shoot you right now, so I guess I'm at your mercy," Carth chuckled.

"That makes me feel a _bunch_ safer," Mission snickered.

"Well, go ahead, interrogate me," Carth said, wiping down a section of galven circuitry with a cleaning rag.

"Excellent, soon all your secrets will be mine," Mission intoned.

"Sure kid, but all my secrets are purely of the mundane variety, unfortunately. Nothing worth extracting, though you're welcome to try," Carth smirked.

"So… how did you fail?" Mission asked.

"I learned the hard way not to trust anyone… and to always expect the unexpected, just to be safe," Carth said vaguely.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mission asked.

"It means I've been betrayed by people I… well, it won't happen again, that's all," Carth said, shrugging.

"What happened?" Mission asked.

"I told you everything you need to know about it. That's good enough," Carth said.

"Of course it isn't, you hairless wookiee," Mission said, exasperated. Adults could be _so stupid!_

"Hairless wookiee?" Carth's eyebrows rose, "Alright, just calm down before your head explodes."

"We'll see whose head explodes, you ungrateful monkey-lizard!" Mission shouted. She didn't know why she was so angry… she just was.

"Is that your idea of an insult? Come on kid, take your best shot," Carth growled.

"Gammorrean pig-man!" Mission shouted.

"_Oh, ouch, _I think you hurt my manly feelings with that one," Carth retorted.

"Drooling Bomarr cast-off!" Mission snarled.

"That all?"

"Ignorant Bantha!" Mission tossed out.

"Feel better now?" Carth asked.

"Yeah… a little," Mission sighed, "Thanks Carth."

Then the girl disappeared through the hatch.

Carth shook his head and began reassembling his weapon. He knew first hand what kind of hell the girl was going through. _And_ adolescence to boot.

((()))

When Bastila returned to the ship, she heard the sounds of a fight. Quickly, she found the source of the conflict. The containers in the port cargo bay had been shoved and stacked against the walls. In the center of the cleared space, two armored men were circling each other, their hands empty. They suddenly came together in a vicious barrage of punches, deflections and attempts to strike with heel or knee before they separated again, clearly uninjured.

Bastila's admonishment died in her throat. Instead, she watched from the hatch, hidden by the stack of crates. The mandalorian managed to successfully lock the commando's elbow, and swept the smaller man's leg out from under him, tumbling Sergeant Draven to the deck. The mandalorian released his grip early, to avoid breaking Draven's elbow joint.

"You're too angry, _areutti. _It's making you sloppy," the merc said.

"I know…"

The mandalorian offered a hand, and pulled the commando to his feet.

"You mad at someone?" Ordo asked, curious, jabbing at Draven.

"Maybe," Kyle replied, slipping along the inside of a kick, and scoring a strike on Ordo's ribs with an elbow.

"Shoot'em. You'll feel better," Canderous advised, forcing Draven to retreat with a trio of hooks and thrusts.

"Can't," Kyle grunted, slapping one of Canderous's punches harmlessly aside.

"One of those, huh?" Ordo said, as they circled each other, looking for weaknesses.

"What do you mean?" Kyle grunted, slamming into the containers after Ordo's kick connected.

"Woman, superior, or friend?" Canderous probed.

"What?" the commando faltered, and Ordo pounced, bearing his opponent to the ground, pinning him with his knee on Kyle's throat. He held the position for a second, then both men were back on their feet, circling again.

"Is it a woman, a superior officer, or a friend?" Ordo asked.

"First two," Kyle said.

"_Oh…_" the merc said in understanding. Kyle hit him with a sudden jab to the T-visor, rocking his head back, and in the brief second that Ordo couldn't see him, Kyle ducked low and scuttled to the left. Canderous fired off a kick, where he thought Kyle was, and the commando tackled the off-balance mercenary, pinning him to the floor.

"_Kandosii!_" Canderous chuckled, slapping Kyle on the shoulder.

Kyle helped the merc back up, and the men were circling again.

"Well… you could woo her," Ordo suggested.

"Next," Kyle said, twisting one of Canderous's punches, but disengaged before the bigger man could get a hold of him.

"Yeah, I didn't like that option either. Perhaps point out to her superiors she's a tactical idiot," Ordo mused.

"Explain," Kyle said, throwing himself into a roll when Ordo charged.

"Well, she's not as clever as she thinks she is," the merc grunted as a kick from Draven hit him in the belly. The big man's arms snared Kyle's leg before he could finish his twist and escape, which resulted in Kyle being thrown into a stack of crates.

The merc helped him back up, "Perhaps with another ten years of experience, but right now, she's just _playing_ war."

"She doesn't give us clear objectives, so we don't know what she's trying to do," Kyle agreed in frustration.

"And if she doesn't start asking for help, she'll get you all killed," the merc said darkly.

Bastila quietly left before they could notice she'd been watching… her mind in turmoil.

Kyle held up his hand, forestalling Canderous's next move. He felt, strange. Kyle pulled his helmet off, and walked to the hatch, looking up and down the corridor, but he didn't see anyone.

Bastila walked into view, and saw him, "Sergeant Draven, I word, please," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," Kyle said, tucking his helmet under his arm, and followed the commander into the starboard cargo hold. He was surprised when she closed the hatch behind him though.

"I believe there is something troubling you," Bastila said, leaning against a stack of canisters.

"Off the record?" Kyle asked.

Bastila nodded.

"I don't trust you," Kyle said bluntly, "and your lack of experience worries me."

"Do you trust the mandalorian?" Bastila asked.

Kyle frowned, thinking.

"No… not completely."

"But more than me?" Bastila pressed.

"He knows what he's doing," Kyle said.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Actually, I did."

((()))

"I don't know what to do, Master Zhar," Bastila admitted.

"Well, what have you done?" Zhar asked, draping one of his _lekku _more comfortably over his shoulder.

"Neither Captain Onasi, or Sergeant Draven trust me, but I haven't done anything to earn their distrust."

"I see…"

"The more I try to maintain discipline, the more they resist. They openly question my decisions…"

"Were they correct?" Zhar asked.

"Well, possibly…" Bastila sighed.

"Then ask for their advice. Include them in your plans, and they will be more likely to support you," Zhar advised.

((()))

The Enclave, although lacking a _plethora _of lightsaber crystals and components, did have a fairly wide variety.

Bastila chose a pair of adegan crystals, which were the most common secondary crystals used, her earlier lightsaber had also utilized such crystals.

From there, she chose two simple beam-gem lenses (often found in optical computers). Such lenses gave the lightsaber a highly focused beam, which improved its cutting ability. Bastila inspected the lenses, as any Jedi should, and found them satisfactory.

The young Jedi chose two emitters designed to redirect blaster fire with incredible accuracy. The final component, a power cell, had less choice involved, since the Enclave only carried standard diatium energy cells. She took two of these, then retreated to the training room. It would take her nearly a week to fully complete her weapon…

((()))

Carth was crawling through the access ducts in the ceiling of the freighter, trying to get at a shield conduit that had overloaded in the escape from Taris. T3-M4 couldn't get at it, so it was left to _Carth_.

Oil dripped on his hand as he lay on his back, trying to wrestle the damaged conduit out of place.

"_Heya_ Carth, _watcha_ do' in?" Mission asked, in a deliberately obnoxious sing-song voice. He looked "up" and saw Mission in the duct ahead of him, propping her chin in her hands, watching.

"Oh, you want to argue some more, is that it?" he grunted.

"I'm always up for a good fight," Mission agreed.

Carth barked out a laugh, "So I've seen. If I were Malak I'd be a bit nervous to have you on my tail."

"So… what's your _big_ secret? Who betrayed you?" Mission asked, loudly popping her chewing gum.

"I'm not going to tell you," Carth said calmly, tugging at an access port.

"Why not?"

"I have my reasons," Carth hissed, sucking his skinned knuckles.

"Zaalbar can make you talk, trust me," Mission said confidently.

"I'll risk it," Carth said.

"What reasons? Come on, I want to know," Mission pleaded.

Carth ignored her, and successfully isolated the damaged circuit, and prepared to pull it out.

"Fine, you can stuff your damned reasons," Mission said, frustrated. She started drumming her fingertips on the duct, bored.

Carth managed to repair the damage, when he saw that a secondary data bundle had also been damaged when the shield overloaded… and Mission was _still_ drumming her fingers in a random pattern that could not be ignored.

"Damn it! I won't get any rest until I talk, will I?" Carth demanded.

"Nope," Mission agreed brightly.

"You want to know why I don't trust anyone? Fine, _here goes_," Carth snarled.

This should be good.

"Five years ago the Jedi had just finished the war with the Mandalorians. Revan and Malak were heroes. I was damn proud to have served in their fleet. It was completely unexpected when they turned on us, invading the Republic while we were still weak. Nobody knew what to think, least of all me. Our heroes had become brutal, conquering Sith... and we were all but helpless before them. Think about it... if you can't even trust the best of the Jedi, who can you trust?" Carth told her bitterly.

"They turned to the darkside, duh. Why so personal?" Mission asked.

"I... of course the Jedi turned to the dark side. There were others, however, who weren't Jedi. Good men... trusted men who joined them," Carth said, derailed, "Malak and Revan and the Sith deserve to die for what they've done... but the ones who fled the Republic and joined them are even worse! The dark side has nothing to do with why they joined with the Sith. They deserve no mercy!"

Mission thought she saw spittle fly from Carth's mouth but couldn't be sure.

"So if it wasn't the Jedi, who betrayed you?" she asked, _dying _of curiosity.

"I'd rather not talk about it, please, Mission," Carth sighed.

"Sure, Carth," Mission agreed, and quickly scooted backwards, leaving the man to his ghosts.

((()))

Kyle stepped into the cantina, and the owner looked up, his face blanching.

"Not again… I just finished cleaning up!" he complained.

"Easy, friend," Kyle said. He sidled up to the bar, "I'm just here to pay for damages," he soothed.

"Oh," the swarthy man said, surprised… apparently the concept of someone actually returning _willingly_ to repay whatever damage they had done was foreign here.

"Your friend put a lot of good lads in the infirmary," the man warned.

"My _friend _could just as easily put a lot of good lads in the morgue," Kyle said flatly.

"Right… right…" the man sighed, wiping a glass with his rag. Secretly, Kyle wondered if all bar tenders didn't have such a glass, and used it as a prop… because it seemed that no amount of wiping could ever clean it…

"Yeah, well, there wasn't actually a lot of damage… a couple of chairs had to be scrapped, and a few mugs…" the bar keep shrugged.

"We put those chairs out of their misery," Kyle deadpanned.

"That you did. Ugly things, my cousin gifted them to me as a wedding present. Couldn't properly dispose of the things without starting a blood feud," the man chuckled.

"You know, if there's anything else you need broken and paid for…" Kyle said with a faint smile.

"No, those were the only two in the set…" the man replied.

"Pity. Would a hundred credits cover the expense?" Kyle asked.

"Probably," the man agreed, just a little _too_ quickly… but Kyle had already offered, so he dropped a pair of fifty denomination credit chits in the man's eager hand.

"You're not like the others," the man said.

"_Others?_" Kyle asked, curious.

"Them other mandalorians."

"You mean from the war?" Kyle asked. _He thinks I'm a mandalorian._

"No… I mean the ones that're raiding the more remote homesteads and ranches. Mostly been theft and arson… but one hold tried to fight em off… found all the men nailed to the gate, their guts hang'n around their ankles. The women… well…" the man shrugged helplessly.

"Where there any children?" Kyle asked softly. The bar keep nodded slowly, "Found the older girls, done just like their mothers… the older boys were like their fathers… never did find the younger ones," the bar keep whispered.

"What are the Jedi doing about this?" Kyle asked.

"Same as they did in the war. Nothing," the bar keep said bitterly.

"How do you know mandalorians did it?" Kyle asked.

"One man survived. Shot up pretty good, and a support beam fell on him… probably mistook him for dead."

"What's his name?" Kyle asked.

"Jon."

((()))

"Hey Mission," Carth said, looking back at his holozine.

"This is me _not_ asking you about your past," Mission said pointedly.

"Mhmm…" Carth said, unconvinced.

"Because I respect your privacy," she said.

"Really," Carth said.

"And I respect your right to be cryptic, because you're so old and all," Mission said brightly.

Carth set down his holozine, "Actually, Mission, I'd like to know more about you. Its only fair," he said calmly.

"Really? You want to know about me? Nobody's ever really been interested in me before. What did you want to know?" Mission asked, taken aback.

"Where are your parents?" Carth asked, curious.

"Big Z's my family, you know? Big Z's a little bit too gullible to make it alone on the mean streets of the Lower City… My parents... well, I guess they're dead. It was just me, on my own until the day I saw Zaalbar in the Lower City. I could tell right away he was in trouble. This was before the gang wars were out of hand, but even then the Vulkars were scum. A few of them were hassling Big Z, trying to pick a fight - but he wasn't looking for trouble," Mission said.

"They were trying to pick a fight with a _wookiee?_" Carth asked, incredulous.

"Hey, nobody said the Vulkars was smart. But there were three of them, so maybe they figured they could handle him. I don't know," Mission shrugged.

"Go on," Carth urged.

"Anyway, I don't like Vulkars at the best of times. And when I saw them picking on this poor Wookiee - all alone on a strange planet, overwhelmed by the big city - I just lost it. I screamed out 'Leave him alone, you core-slimes!' and charged right at them," Mission said proudly.

"You're lucky he didn't fry you with a blaster," Carth observed.

"Hey, I don't need a lecture from you. You ain't my mother! I knew what I was doing," Mission protested.

"Anyway, one of them saw me coming and slapped me so hard he just about knocked me cold."

"Smacking a kid? Those Vulkars have no class…" Carth sighed.

"Hey - don't treat me like I'm a little girl! I ain't no kid - I'm fourteen years old!" Mission snapped. Carth raised an eyebrow. She didn't _look_ fourteen. But then again, she wasn't human, and he wasn't familiar with Twi'lek growth patterns.

"Those Vulkars didn't scare me. They're nothing but cowards. I knew how to deal with them. Of course, I never got the chance. I guess Zaalbar didn't like seeing me get smacked around. He let out this howl and yanked that Vulkar a meter up off the ground and held him there by his throat!" Mission chuckled.

"Did Zaalbar kill him?" Carth asked quietly.

"Are you kidding? Big Z ain't like that! He's just a big old softie inside. Of course, the Vulkars didn't know that. The other two screamed and ran off. Can't say I blame them. The first time you see an angry Wookiee up close it isn't a pretty sight. I thought Zaalbar was going to rip that punk's arms off and beat him to death with his own fists. The Vulkar was so scared he fainted. Or maybe Big Z's breath just knocked him out," Mission confided.

A wookiee rumbled, annoyed, from the port cargo bay.

"Sorry Zaalbar, but I keep telling you to brush those choppers once in a while. Why do you think I won't stand downwind when you're talking?" Mission called back.

"Anyway, I knew those Vulkars would be back with friends, so I grabbed Zaalbar and we took off. Ever since then we've been a team. We look out for each other, you know?"

Carth nodded, gaining a new appreciation for the teenager, "How did Zaalbar end up on Taris?" Carth asked.

Mission shrugged, "He was fleeing some kind of trouble back on Kashyyyk. That's all I know, really. Big Z doesn't like to talk about it. In case you didn't notice he's the strong, silent type. Doesn't much matter to me, though. I accept him for what he _is_, not what he _was_. Me and Zaalbar like to live in the present."

"How_ did_ you survive before meeting Zaalbar?" Carth asked, curious.

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I can't take care of myself? I've got street smarts! I know how to get by on my own! Jeez, you're as bad as my brother," Mission fumed.

Carth raised his hands to placate the volatile stew of teenage hormones, "I didn't know you had a brother," he said, a peace offering.

"My brother's a touchy subject. It just so happens I don't really feel like talking about him right now, okay?" Mission demanded.

"Alright," Carth agreed.

((()))

Kyle found Jon in what passed for the city hospital.

"You don't look that bad…" Kyle said, knocking at the door. The man's black hair had a burned patch along one temple, resembling a blaster graze. The rest of the damage was concealed by kolto bandages, which covered his entire torso.

"Who're you?" Jon asked.

"Kyle."

"You here to tell me how _sorry_ you are for my loss? How, these things _happen?_" the injured man asked bitterly.

Kyle shook his head slowly, "I am sorry… but people _do_ these things. They don't _happen_ on their own."

"You from the Enclave?" Jon asked, tired.

"Technically, I suppose," Kyle allowed.

"I already told them everything," Jon said flatly.

"I'm not here for them. I want to know what happened," the commando said softly.

"Why? If the _Jedi_, our so called protectors, won't do anything, why would someone like you?" Jon demanded.

"Because I lost friends in a war against these bastards… and I'm not about to let them pretend that they _won_,"Kyle said, his voice didn't change, but Jon felt like the man should have been shouting.

((()))

Zaalbar looked up from the half assembled permacrete detonator, startled. The human commando, Kyle, stood before him.

_((My apologies. I did not notice your arrival))_ Zaalbar said. The human's face wrinkled as he listened closely to the wookiee scout's words, but Zaalbar saw comprehension in his eyes.

"I need your help," the human said tensely.

_((What do you need?))_

"I need help tracking a party of mandalorian raiders. They massacred a ranch."

((()))

"There… that's where the men were… were murdered," Jon said, pointing.

Zaalbar moved close to the gate, and could see where metal spikes had once been driven into the wood. He could also see and smell where blood had soaked the wood. The hunter looked at the ground, and growled. So many feet had recently trod the mud that it told him nothing. The scent was old, stale, and there had been a recent rain.

Zaalbar told the commando as much.

They poked around the ranch some more, but it was obvious there wasn't anything else to find… and Jon was beginning to look _very_ pale.

That's when Zaalbar found the droid… or at least, the deep tracks of a biped, formed by the rectangular foot of a protocol droid.

"Jon, did you have a protocol droid?" Kyle asked, staring at the tracks.

"_I_ didn't, but Elise… Elise did… it was a modified labor droid…" Jon said softly.

"Was the droid found among the others?" Kyle asked.

The man frowned, thinking, "No… I don't believe it was…"

"Can you follow the tracks from the speeder?" Kyle asked Zaalbar. The wookiee nodded.

((()))

Kyle traveled at little faster than a man's sprint, which seemed unbearably slow… but any faster, and Zaalbar started complaining. They followed the tracks all afternoon, until they finally caught up with the droid… or at least, what was left of it. Kyle jumped out of the speeder, and ran to the bulky mechanical unit. Its chest had suffered multiple blaster shots from close range. Most of the damage was superficial, but one shot, apparently the crippling blow, had partially pierced its primary capacitor.

The droid would have been slowly leaking energy… similar to an organic dying from blood loss. Emphasis on _slowly_. The memory core was in the head, however. Kyle accessed the core, and removed it in short order.

"Let's get back to the ship," Kyle said.

((()))

Kyle sat at the holographic projector on the Ebon Hawk. He had the memory core of labor droid C8-42 plugged into his datapad, and was replaying the events that had led to its eventual "death." Jon sat next to him. The wounded man was silent… he had hardly seen anything during the attack, not the beginning, nor the finish…

Kyle skipped entire sections of the final day in two hour increments, mostly it was simple farming and labor… but at 17:00 hours, three days ago, Kyle found what he was looking for:

"Mistress Elise. We appear to have visitors," the droid said, looking at a rather striking woman, with fine cheekbones, and shoulder length hair. The photoreceptors of the droid were poor, so colors were difficult to determine.

The droid looked back at the "visitors" in the distance. Nearly a dozen swoop bikes were approaching, a forward guard for half as many speeders, and a single cargo truck. The resolution wasn't good enough to determine who was riding the vehicles, though.

Kyle could hear the woman speak out of sight, apparently on a comlink,

"Samnt, over a dozen vehicles are approaching from the north. They're about a kilometer out."

The woman's voice went silent, then returned, angry, "I will _not_. Just get the boys back from the field, the children are still up in the house!"

"See-eight, come with me," the woman ordered, appearing in front of the droid's vision, which began to wobble as it followed her.

Kyle watched as the woman began ordering children around, most were less than ten years of age. It looked like they were barricading the farmhouse. C8-42 was also aiding in the task.

Kyle could hear the roar of swoop engines nearby, which cut off raggedly, then the shouting started. It was in _mando'a_, but… it didn't make sense. They were just random words, most of them curses… gibberish.

The droid peeked out a barricaded window. Kyle could see over a dozen humanoids running about in mandalorian armor, and twice as many duros in plain tunics surrounded the men. They were all armed with a medley of blasters and rifles.

One mandalorian, his armor darker than the others, but the color unknown, stepped forward.

"Alright, here's how it is. You come out, you give us what we want, and we leave… or else we start shooting…"

Kyle paused the recording and looked at Jon, "I can watch the rest later, if you wish," he offered. The man had tears in the corners of his eyes, but he shook his head, "No, I need to see this," he whispered.

Kyle nodded slowly, and resumed the recording.

"Like hell! You'll just shoot us out in the open!" Elise shouted back, defiant.

"Listen, bitch, if you don't come out by the time I count to five, I'll just set fire to the building," the mandalorian threatened.

"We have _children _in here!" Elise protested harshly.

"In five seconds you'll have _dead_ brats in there," the man corrected.

"I want your oath that you won't hurt us if we come out," Elise shouted.

"Fine, I swear it, now come out!" the man roared.

"We're out of time," Elise sighed.

Reluctantly, the woman led the children out of the house, her chin raised defiantly.

The dark hued mandalorian turned to one of the duros, "We only have room for a dozen. Pick the ones that will fetch the most. The rest… the rest are for the boys…"

"You gave your word!" Elise snarled.

The man shrugged insolently.

The next several seconds involved duros grabbing screaming children, and dragging them off to the truck.

"They're not mandalorians," a voice said.

Kyle spun, spotting Canderous, who had been watching for an unknown time.

Jon saw him, and his face became something terrible to see.

"You killed my wife!" he shouted, throwing himself at the bigger man, who shrugged him off.

"_I didn't_… besides, you should have protected her better," Canderous said bluntly.

"We tried, damn you! We all tried…" Jon wept, unable to rise from the floor… crushed by the weight of his guilt and shame.

"Anyway those aren't mandalorians. They may wear the armor, but the _resol'nare_ is not in their hearts," Canderous growled.

"Explain," Kyle said.

Canderous held up his fingers, ticking off on them, "No mandalorian would stoop so low as to work with _slavers_. Next, they weren't really speaking _mando'a_. Third, the leader broke his word. Finally, all of the men are looking forward. None are watching the area around them for signs of an attack."

Kyle stared at the frozen image and nodded… "I agree," he said.

Canderous nodded grimly, "Which means there are outsiders defiling the armor of fallen warriors, and dishonoring what it is to be _mando'ade_."

Kyle quickly watched the rest of the recording with Canderous and Zaalbar, privately. The farmers returned, a few with blasters, but most carried farming tools, falling on the men raping and murdering their children and wives… At first, it looked as if the farmers would triumph… but although furious, their lack of proper weaponry quickly turned the fight into a slaughter…

The droid tried to help, but was shot, repeatedly. The buildings were ransacked, then burned, and the bodies put up for display, apparently for the hell of it.

The droid regained its feet, and staggered after the departing vehicles, carrying twelve children. The droid followed the ion emissions of the vehicles, even after it had lost sight of its quarry. Kyle turned off the recording. He turned to the holographic display, and pulled up a topographical scan of Dantooine. T3-M4 was helping him while the others watched.

"Alright Tee-three… plot the locations of all recent arson, theft, or death on the map in red please… even deaths related to _accidents_," Kyle requested.

The utility droid murmured to itself as it crunched through local reports, over the last ten years (just to be thorough).

The entire planet lit up like a ruby.

"Too broad… alright Tee-three… everything in the last two years," Kyle clarified.

Over half of the dots disappeared, and the rest were mostly concentrated in the northern hemisphere.

"Enhance sector gamma nineteen," Kyle said. The sphere zoomed in, replaced by a flat grid of the planet, nearly one thousand square kilometers.

"Mark the location of the Doran hold massacre in black, please."

A dot in the lower left corner of the square turned black.

"Display dates of reported incidents. Display arson in orange, theft in purple, and leave deaths in red."

Kyle stared at the kaleidoscope of color, but there was a definite cluster of activity, a circle nearly two hundred kilometers in diameter, with the black dot on its outer edge, all within the last seven months.

"Tee-three, pull up population concentration census data," Kyle said.

T3-M4 blatted a negative, and displayed: INFORMATION RESTRICTED.

"You cracked a state of the art Sith security system… but you can't break some backwater planet's tax records?" Kyle demanded.

IT CAN BE DONE, BUT SUCH ACTION IS ILLEGAL. PROCEED?

Kyle didn't hesitate, "Get me that information."

Suddenly census data started to explode on the map, and Kyle finally spotted the pattern.

"Those bastards…" Kyle whispered.

"Tee-three, correlate similarities of attacks, population size, distance from nearby population zones of above normal density, presence of natural obstacles to traffic... and wealth of targets."

It took the utility droid nearly ten minutes to complete the request, finally it finished.

"Show results."

Kyle's smile grew… he was right.

"Extrapolate next target, using these parameters," Kyle said.

_I have you now, you murdering bastards… _

Kyle looked over at the others, "I plan to be there, waiting for them…"

Zaalbar snarled, his fury so thick it made understanding him difficult, but Kyle did make out: slavers, children, and something involving the removal of a humanoid's testicles… somehow accomplished by shoving an arm down their throat.

Kyle looked at Canderous, and the big man nodded silently. The commando turned to look at the crumpled man on the deck of the ship.

"Jon? You want to come with us?"

"Yes."

((()))

Mission crouched down next to Carth, while he was waist deep in the innards of a maintenance hatch.

"So, Carth," she started, continuing her campaign, "What happened—"

"Actually," Carth interrupted, "I want to know about your brother."

_Oooh_… Mission was wise to the old man's motives.

"You're just saying that to distract me," Mission said bluntly.

Carth wriggled out of the maintenance hatch, and looked at her levelly, "No. Something about it upset you, and I'd like to know if I can help," he said honestly, then disappeared back to his waist in wires.

Mission frowned, "I get a little touchy when it comes to Griff. It's kind of embarrassing telling people about him."

"Embarrassing? Why?" Carth asked. There was the pop of an electrical short, and Carth's left foot jerked, followed by some pained (and muffled) cursing.

"It's… complicated. Griff wasn't the most popular guy, he had his faults. But I still loved him, you know? Sometimes people don't understand," Mission answered slowly, "I never knew my parents, my brother always looked out for me. He's the one who brought me to Taris. I was just a kid, only five. But I remember the trip - if you could call it that. We were stuffed inside a packing crate in a star freighter's cargo hold with just enough food and water to make the trip. Not exactly first class, you know?"

"You were stowaways?" Carth asked, trying to avoid a drip of hydraulic fluid that came close to his cheek.

"I don't know the whole story - I was pretty young. But my brother owed a lot of money. Might even have been a few arrest warrants out for him, I don't know," Mission admitted.

"How could your brother do that to a five-year old?" Carth demanded, jerking the processor out of its socket, and set it on the deck behind him.

"The only way to get off the planet was to smuggle ourselves out. I mean, I don't want to make it sound like we were criminals... well, maybe my brother was. _See,_ this is why I don't like to talk about it. It makes Griff sound worse than he really was. My brother had his problems, but he always looked out for me," Mission said defensively.

Carth nodded, "He's family."

"Yeah - that's what I'm trying to say! Without my brother I don't know where I'd be," Mission agreed.

"What kind of problems did your brother have?" Carth asked carefully.

"Oh, he gambled. And drank. And he was always borrowing money for his latest get rich quick scheme. But he had a good heart, you know? He taught me how to survive. He showed me how to slice into a computer's security system; how to get inside a locked building without the entrance codes, and how to spot a wealthy mark for a quick shell game," Mission answered.

Griff sounded like nothing but a petty criminal.

"Pretty handy skills to have, Mission," Carth said diplomatically.

"Yeah, Griff did right by me," Mission concluded.

A moment of silence fell while Carth concentrated on plugging the new plasma relay bypass into place.

"I really miss him since he left. I kept hoping he'd come back some day. He promised me he would… but now, there's no place to come back _to_."

Carth didn't think Griff sounded like someone who kept his promises.

"Why did he leave?" Carth asked.

"He fell in with a bad crowd. It's all Lena's fault. She's the one who took him from me! Just batted those long lashes at him and off he went!" Mission said bitterly.

"Lena?" Carth asked.

"I don't want to talk about Griff and Lena - just the thought of that intergalactic space-skank makes my blood boil! Subject's closed as far as I'm concerned!"

Carth didn't enquire further. He had learned wisdom in his old age…

((()))

Bastila opened her eyes, coming out of her meditative trance. Her body was stiff from her week of inactivity, and she looked down at the weapon. It was complete… slowly, the young woman reached down, and hefted the double-bladed weapon… and pressed the activation studs, on both ends of the handle. Twin beams of golden energy erupted, no more than eighty centimeters in length. Bastila rose, holding her weapon, and fell into the Force, using it to guide her around the room. She spun through her basic lightsaber forms, feeling her muscles warm, and the visceral thrill of the thrumming blade as it whipped about her…

_Anticipation. _

_ Vengeance._

_ Fear._

Bastila stumbled, as these emotions flooded into her, the lightsaber falling from her hand, to bounce and mar the stone floor. Where had these come from? Was someone contacting her? She reached out, and realized the emotions belonged to Kyle.


	8. Chapter 8: Discovery

Kyle adjusted the scope on his rifle, and waited among the trees. Jon had elected to remain in the speeder, which was also among the trees. Canderous was hidden fifty meters to Kyle's left, and Zaalbar was fifty meters on the right. Ahead of them was a small ranch, with only a single family living on it… but there were multiple labor droids, and the productive farm was cut off from most traffic due to the thick forest that Kyle was using for cover. They had been waiting in position for nearly seven hours, and had begun resting in shifts.

"Contact… vehicles approaching from the south-east," Canderous said, excitement in his voice, waking the others.

"I see them," Kyle said. A landspeeder, flanked by two swoop bikes…

He activated the macrobinocular set into his helmet, zooming in on the approaching targets, although the image became slightly blurry. "One mandalorian, three duros…"

"One _dar'manda,_ and three slavers," Ordo corrected.

"Wait for them to dismount… once they spread out, Zaalbar, attach the tracker to a swoop… disable the controls of the other two," Kyle said.

_((Understood.))_ Zaalbar growled softly.

"What about us?" Canderous asked.

"We're going to kill some bastards…" Kyle said

"I'm a bastard," Canderous said.

"Really?" Kyle asked, slipping forward through the mid-chest high grass/grain hybrid crop, hunched over so that the grain was level with his visor slit.

"By _aruetyc _definition of marriage, I am," Canderous chuckled. If the man had any trouble hauling his heavy weapon in the awkward half-crouch, he showed no signs of it.

The men stopped at the edge of the field, where they could still see what was happening, but wouldn't _be_ seen… probably.

The speeder and swoops halted in front of the farmhouse, and a man in his sixties emerged. In his hand, he carried a large bag of… something.

The mandalorian nodded to a duros, who stepped forward and took the bag. Kyle could see Zaalbar next to one of the swoop bikes, hidden from any occupants in the house by the body of the swoop.

"You've been holding out on us again," the mandalorian accused.

"No! It's all there, I swear!" the older man begged.

"I guess we'll just have to take it out of you… piece by piece," the armored man chuckled sadistically, drawing a knife from his belt.

"Please… take my wife, my children! Anything but—"

Kyle had almost fired early to save the man… but after hearing that… he let Zaalbar finish his task… the coward would (in death) save others from his fate…

"I'm moving up," Kyle said, and ran, using the house to block the raiders from view.

He heard a man scream, then the sound cut off with a wet finality.

"Wife and children… heh, we'll take those anyway," the mandalorian chuckled. Kyle climbed up onto the flat roof of the house, and pulled his rifle off his back, shouldering it. He stepped to the edge of the roof, _time to make them scatter:_

"Stop where you are! We have you surrounded. Throw down your weapons, and you will not be harmed!" Kyle shouted.

The mandalorian's head snapped up, staring at Kyle, as if… stunned. Then he spun, and ran for the speeder. The slavers though… they tried to shoot Kyle.

"Fierfeik!" Kyle grunted, falling back. He heard the thunderous roar of Canderous's weapon, and peeked back over the edge. Two of the slavers were dead, and Canderous was deliberately chasing the third with his shots, herding the terrified slaver towards the swoop bikes. Kyle dropped from the roof, and advanced on the speeder, rifle ready to fire.

"Slaver has taken the bait. He's outbound," Canderous reported.

"Got it. I'm on the _hut'une_," _((coward))_ Kyle replied. The man had no doubt realized the speeder was disabled (Zaalbar had ripped the steering column out)

The mandalorian popped up, and fired hastily at Kyle, missing, but the commando's shot also missed… instead of hitting the vulnerable throat, his shot hit the collar plate.

_Damn!_ The mandalorian dropped out of sight, and Canderous appeared, walking wide to the left, as Kyle took a circle to the right…

"He's not dead. I hit his collar plate," Kyle said.

"Yeah, I saw," the merc grunted.

But the two warriors cleared the speeder, and saw the mandalorian, clearly lying on the grass.

"Playing dead?" Kyle asked, advancing cautiously.

"I'd only do it if I had a grenade…" Ordo said grimly… but as they approached, Kyle began to believe the man really was dead. The man's hands were empty, and he was crumpled at an awkward angle. Still, Kyle checked to make sure the man wasn't lying on a grenade with a motion sensor.

"Son of a bitch. He's dead," Kyle said, surprised. He turned the man onto his back.

"You missed…" Canderous confirmed, spotting the blaster mark on the plate below the neckline…

"What is this?" Kyle asked, rapping the painted armor plates. He pulled out a knife, and scraped at it, peeling off layers of material.

"Its _plastoid?_" Canderous asked, insulted.

"Someone fashioned armor that looked mandalorian out of plastoid… it's not even hardened against thermal discharges," Kyle mused. _Why?_

"They're wearing _d'kutla _costumes?!" Canderous demanded, outraged.

"At least we know this wasn't stripped from a fallen warrior," Kyle offered.

"They could have made _hundreds _of these costumes!" Ordo roared.

"But, it's useless armor. Why are you so concerned?" Kyle asked.

"Because, outsiders will think they _are_ mandalorian! Our honor is at stake…" Canderous said, clearly worried.

"Let's see if these idiots were smart enough to erase their travel logs…" Kyle said, moving towards the disabled speeder.

Apparently, intelligence was not a virtue the imposters possessed in any large quantity.

"Alright… I think we've got them…"

((()))

Bastila piloted the speeder at reckless (for non-Jedi) speeds. Either Kyle had turned off his comlink, or he was using a different frequency for communication… which was probable if he was following commando SOP. She'd sensed Kyle enter combat, but now, he was curious… and eager. She was closing on the automated beacon all Enclave speeders contained… but it would still take her nearly two hours to reach Kyle. If he got himself killed… and who could he possibly be fighting _here?!_

((()))

Jon accelerated, following the signal of the escaped slaver.

"Surely he can't be _that_ stupid," Canderous said.

_((Slavers are always stupid. And don't call me Shirley))_ Zaalbar snarled.

"What'd he say?" Canderous asked Kyle.

"He said slavers are always stupid."

"But he's leading us _straight_ to their base!" Canderous growled, frustrated.

"Zaalbar, what was the range on the explosive again?"

_((Its short range, only four kilometers))_ the wookiee replied.

"We just have to get close enough, or boost the transmission strength of the signal," Kyle said.

"That's easy!" someone said.

"Mission?" Kyle asked.

"Oops…" the girl said.

"How long have you been monitoring our com-links?" Kyle demanded.

"Uh… sorta off and on… all day…" the girl admitted.

"Never mind that. You think you can blow the grenade on the slaver's swoop?" Canderous demanded.

"Sure. Plug the signal into the beacon on your speeder. That's got enough range _and_ power to trip the detonation signal," Mission said.

((()))

Bastila stared at the screen. The signal for the speeder had vanished. Bastila stretched out her senses, following the Force Bond back to its source… Kyle was still alive… she located him, and changed course slightly.

((()))

"Pull ahead of that outcropping Jon, I want to—"

Kyle trailed off. He looked behind him, but no one was there…

"Something wrong?" Canderous asked.

"No… it's just…" it felt like someone was… breathing on his neck, almost.

The sensation was still there, but not as strong. Finally he shrugged it off.

"Alright, I want you to stay with the speeder Jon, in case we need an extraction," Kyle said, slipping out.

_((I have the aerosol grenades you wanted))_ Zaalbar reminded his friend. The materials to make them were easily acquired, but difficult to correctly assemble.

"Good," Kyle said, keeping one, and handing the other to Canderous.

((()))

The three warriors snuck along a ridge of rock, then down into a shallow streambed, using it to approach the _abandoned_ homestead.

A small shuttle craft of a design Kyle had never seen before was partially hidden beneath sensor-baffle netting. Such netting was employed by special forces, smugglers, and generally anyone else who didn't want their ships to be noticed after landing.

Speeders and swoops were kept in a dilapidated barn, also hidden from aerial detection… but Kyle didn't see any movement… which meant the enemy was inside. He spotted four likely sniper positions on the east side of the building. The south side had no windows, however, and did possess a tumble of rubble, which had once been a small building. Kyle led the team up to the side of the target via its blind spot. He snuck around the building, to the front door, and slipped a flexible holocam under it, sending the feed to his helmet.

The video was from floor height, for obvious reasons, but he could still see the next room. He panned the camera, to look at the door from the inside, and saw a basic security sensor, hooked up to a primitive trap. Someone had used adhesive strips to attach a blaster pistol to the wall, pointed at chest height. He could see wires leading from the triggering mechanism to the sensor.

Kyle felt something gnaw at him, and frowned, looking around the room. It was apparently a kitchen of some kind, the table had chairs stacked on it… but the commando thought he could see spider webbing on the table.

He snuck around the house, inspecting the windows and doors, but everywhere he looked Kyle found basic traps, and no sign that the farmhouse had been occupied in the last three months. The speeders had seen recent use however.

"The house is a decoy," Kyle told his team quietly, "Zaalbar, can you pick up a scent?"

The wookiee crept into the barn, and returned several seconds later, following an invisible path… to the pile of rubble.

It took nearly a minute to find the hidden trap door, consisting of a piece of rusting durasteel, and a hinge. Kyle slipped the holocam under the door, and saw a ladder, leading down into a tunnel… but no traps.

"Tight quarters…" Kyle said grimly, "Canderous, take point. I'll be center, and Zaalbar, you keep an eye on the rear…"

Zaalbar did not like that plan, and said as much.

"Look, there won't be any room to dodge down there. You have the least armor, you're at the back!" Kyle whispered harshly.

The commando quietly lifted the trap door, and Ordo descended the ladder, one hand on the rungs, the other holding his weapon.

"Tunnel's clear," Canderous said.

Kyle followed, and Zaalbar closed the trap door behind them.

In the darkness, the mandalorian and commando switched their helmets over to IR vision, but the wookiee's eyes quickly adjusted.

The walls were made of hardpacked dirt and clay. Wooden beams had been used to reinforce the ceiling of the tunnel.

If anyone had a grenade or flamethrower, this tunnel would become a death trap, Kyle realized grimly.

But the tunnel was only fifteen meters long, and broke through into a cave system.

The current chamber was nearly ten meters in diameter, shaped like a bowl, and had two openings.

Kyle gestured for Zaalbar to hold this position, then signaled for Canderous to take the left tunnel. The mandalorian nodded, and quickly disappeared. Kyle moved into the right tunnel quietly, careful to avoid touching the outcroppings, since his plastoid armor would clack on the stone.

It wasn't long before he heard voices…

"I still think we shouldn't have killed the feisty one," a man complained.

"Shut up."

"We could'a taken her with us, plenty of cages…"

"Shut up."

"Easy access. Wouldn't have to wait till the next slave raid for some fun…"

Kyle heard a heavy sound, and a man grunt in surprise.

"Oo bwoke my nosthb!" someone moaned.

"I told you to shut up," a second voice said harshly.

The injured man tried to say something, but the angry voice cut him off, "And if you keep moaning I'll break more of your ugly face until you _shut up_!"

Kyle peeked around the corner, and saw a pair of human men in mandalorian armor. Both were painted blue, just like the raider Kyle had killed, so he was fairly certain they were wearing plastoid replicas. Neither had a helmet on. One man's pallid face had blood running from the nostrils, and the nose was bent to the side at an angle. The injured man was gingerly trying to set his own nose. Kyle agreed with the second man… broken-nose was ugly.

Nose-breaker had stronger looking features, and darker skin… and cruel eyes. At the moment, Nose-breaker was reading a datapad, sitting at ease on a sprawl of canvas sacks and crates, clearly comfortable.

Broken-nose, set his nose with a yelp, and whimpered.

"If you can't shut up, get out," Nose-breaker snarled, scrolling down his datapad.

Broken-nose, with a furious glare, retreated through a narrow crack at the back of the store room.

"Finally," Nose-breaker sighed, becoming absorbed in his reading again.

Kyle set his rifle down on the tunnel floor slowly, before he eased towards the reading raider, carefully placing each step. The man was angled away from the tunnel Kyle was creeping down, but the commando was still in the man's peripheral vision…

The raider seemed to sense Kyle's presence when the commando was only a meter away, but Kyle jumped him, clamping a gloved hand over the man's mouth, and established a choke-hold. The man had basic training, Kyle admitted, but seven seconds later, the man was unconscious. Kyle's ribs felt a little bruised, but he didn't mind. He firmly gripped the man's head, and with a twist/pull, broke the unconscious man's neck. A few seconds later, Kyle arranged the man to appear sleeping, and retrieved his rifle from the tunnel.

Now, killing an unconscious enemy was typically frowned upon, but Kyle had only choked him because a knife kill would have been messier and louder. The commando didn't intend to take any prisoners… not after witnessing their attack on Jon's family.

((()))

Canderous activated the repulsor-lift assist on his heavy repeating blaster, and used its magnetic mounts to secure the weapon to his back. Ordo drew his vibro-sword, but didn't turn it on. The hum would give him away, and the power-cells burned out quickly. He kept walking, but it seemed _his_ tunnel just made a large circle around the cave system… frustrated, he picked up the pace.

((()))

Kyle caught up with Broken-nose in the tunnels, and clamped a hand over the man's mouth, who uselessly grabbed at Kyle's armored wrists.

"Scream, and I'll cut your throat. Do you understand?" Kyle asked coldly, his knife pressed against the man's neck hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

Broken-nose nodded subtly.

"Are the children here?" Kyle asked. It was a yes or no answer, so he kept a hand on the man's mouth.

Broken-nose nodded.

"Good. How many duros?" Kyle let his hand leave the man's mouth a little.

"Benty-bor," the man whispered. Kyle assumed that meant twenty-four.

"How many like you?" Kyle asked.

"Benty." The man whispered.

"Seventeen," Kyle corrected, a few seconds later as he wiped blood off his knife on the dead man's sleeve.

((()))

_Finally_, Canderous thought to himself, reaching another room. It was composed of three levels, like a terraced bowl, maybe forty meters in diameter, and twenty meters tall. He could also hear the quiet voices of children. Portable arc lamps illuminated sections of the caves like islands of light in the dark. He saw a _dar'manda_ walk past the opening of the tunnel where he was standing. The man didn't even have his _buy'ce ((helmet))_ on. Canderous grabbed him and dragged him into the tunnel, snapping the man's neck before he could even finish inhaling a breath to scream. Disgraceful.

Canderous left the man in the tunnel, and crept out, sticking to the shadows. He caught sight of a man in commando armor for a brief moment, then another _dar'manda_ disappeared behind a stalagmite. Ordo had an aerosol grenade the wookiee had given him, as did the commando. Aerosol grenades released a thick (typically non-toxic) screen of refractive particles that diffused energy based weapon damage. A blaster shot could still travel through a cloud, but anything it hit would receive a slap and a mild burn, instead of dying. They didn't last long, however, especially if the room was large, or there was wind. Canderous could see two cages, which held six huddled forms each, and they were right next to each other.

Canderous slipped his sword back into its sheath, and pulled _ord'ika_ off his back.

"I'm screening the children," Canderous said over his comlink as he primed and threw his grenade.

He powered up his weapon, and as the grenade exploded, (hiding the children from view) he opened fire. Slavers and _dar'manda_ scattered, yelling and screaming. Canderous was on the lowest level of the bowl, which narrowed his field of fire, but there were a lot of enemies on the lowest level… six bolts ran across the waist of a fleeing Duros, cutting it in half.

"_Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade!"_Canderous bellowed as he laid waste to the imposters. The stream of golden bolts clearly marked him in the darkness, revealing his position to the enemy… but there wasn't much enemy _left_. A blaster rifle joined in, from the top level, hitting enemies on the levels safe from _ord'ika_.

Return fire slapped into his armor, feeling like an angry man's punch… it hurt, but it wasn't going to kill him.

Then something hit his left pectoral chest plate, and it felt like a _rancor_ had punched him, throwing him back several feet. Canderous thought he'd felt some ribs break.

"Canderous, disruptor pistol!" the commando warned him belatedly.

"I know!" Ordo hissed, staggering behind a stalagmite.

One of the imposters had a pair of disruptors in his hands, and charged.

"Amateur," Ordo grunted, pirouetting around his cover, and dropped the man in a hail of blaster bolts. The barrage threw the disruptor wielding idiot into a stack of crates, and Ordo took pot shots at a few duros trying to climb the walls of the cave to escape.

Kyle saw the man with the disruptors stagger back to his feet, and level the weapons at Canderous.

"Ordo, duck!" Kyle barked.

The mercenary started to drop, and the disruptors missed their mark. One hit a cave wall, the other slapped into Canderous's left shoulder pauldron, knocking him into a nasty spin. Kyle had seen Ordo shoot the man. There was only one answer:

_He's wearing beskar'gam_.

Canderous held up his hands in surrender, gasping. He'd landed on his broken ribs.

"Why did you attack my men?" the _hut'une _snarled, keeping Ordo under his disruptors.

"You are _areutic_. You will never understand glory, honor, or courage," Canderous spat. One of his lungs had collapsed, no doubt punctured by a piece of rib.

"You ruined months of work!" the imposter snarled, and Canderous laughed at him scornfully, "You talk too much."

Something landed next to Canderous, and exploded into mist. The disruptors fired, hitting Canderous, but he hardly felt them, thanks to the commando's aerosol grenade. He kicked the imposter's right knee, snapping it, and the man fell to the ground howling, which suddenly cut off, replaced by gurgling noises.

"_Su'cuy gar, Canderous,"_ Kyle chuckled, dragging the mercenary out of the cloud.

"And I mean that literally," Kyle told him. Ordo glared, but his expression was hidden by his helmet. The literal translation was: _so you're still alive._

"You owe me another drink for this," Ordo grumbled.

"Help me get the kids out, and you can drink yourself under the table on my tab," Kyle promised. He paused to pull his knife out of the imposter's throat, and sheathed it after a quick wipe.

((()))

Bastila felt Kyle's weariness, as well as relief, and a powerful sense of satisfaction. She was close.

((()))

Jon's eyes widened as he saw the group return… trailing behind them…

"Sasha!" Jon bellowed, forgetting his injuries, he scrambled out of the speeder, and ran across the field.

"Daddy!" a ten year old girl screamed, breaking away from the group.

Kyle stopped next to the weeping man. A small black haired boy refused to let go of the commando's hand, and another blonde boy was carrying Kyle's helmet like a teddy bear.

Zaalbar had three children hanging off his weapons harness, and looked similar to a grumpy bantha. All of the children gave Canderous a wide berth, because of his armor.

"You found them…" Jon wept, holding his daughter to him. It didn't look like he was going to let go anytime soon.

Kyle heard the whine of an overtaxed speeder half a second before the vehicle popped over the hill.

"Scatter!" Kyle barked, drawing his blaster. He fired at the oncoming threat, until a golden beam swatted his shots harmlessly into the air. Bastila braked angrily, and cut power to the engine.

"What did you do?!" she demanded angrily.

"You are in _trouble_…" Canderous noted grimly.

She lost some of her fire when she saw the little boy holding his hand.

"Hostage recovery operation, sir," Kyle said.

"With the mandalorian?" Bastila demanded.

Kyle shrugged, "Apparently, sir."

Bastila was in his face, "The mercenary is a corrupting influence—"

Kyle was exhausted, he hurt, and he was tired of his commander's posturing… so he snapped back. It was stupid… but he did it.

Kyle tugged his tags from under the collar of his armor, and tossed them at her feet silently. It's not like he was on active duty anyway. He was _technically_ retired.

Bastila stared at Kyle, stunned. She could feel his frustration with her like a constant ugly hum through their Force Bond.

"Get out of my way, Shan. You want to court martial me? Fine. Do it later, because right now, _I'm busy_." Kyle snarled. He brushed past her.

"Alright, you three, go with Mr. Jon and Sasha in his speeder," the commando told some of the children gently.

Kyle split the rest of the children between himself and Zaalbar, appropriating two of the raider's speeders, and within a minute, three speeders were fading into the distance, leaving a speeder, a mandalorian, and a Jedi standing next to an abandoned farm house.

"You messed that up rather spectacularly," Canderous observed.

"This is _your_ fault," Bastila snapped.

Canderous shook his head stiffly, "He's a commando. Your Republic trained him to be _independent_, unpredictable, relentless… a damned thorn in the _shebs ((ass))_ of your enemies. Men like that, you give them _objectives_, not _orders_," the mandalorian sneered.

"It's falling apart…" Bastila said.

"Nothing's _falling apart_, every time you bring down the heavy end of your authority, you force everyone away." Canderous grunted as he walked towards the last speeder. No longer distracted, Bastila noticed that the mercenary was injured.

"You're wounded," Bastila noted.

"I'll be fine…" Canderous grumbled as he climbed into the speeder.

((()))

Kyle and Zaalbar followed Jon to a nearby steadholt, owned by a couple, Gar and Rilka. They were friends of Jon's.

It didn't take long before the older couple had the children all sorted out, with real food.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" Draven asked Jon.

"It will take some time… but yes, I think we'll be fine," the farmer said, softly. Sasha hadn't left her father's side ever, as if doing so would cause her to wake up from her dream.

"We need to get going then. We'll take the Enclave speeder," Kyle said, easing towards the door.

"Before you go… thank you. Even your other friend," Jon said, gripping Kyle's hand tightly.

"We had to do it," Kyle said.

"I… actually believe you mean that," Jon chuckled.

((()))

The trip back to the enclave was quiet, no one felt like talking.

With a clearer head, Kyle began to regret his hasty actions… but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. With the speeder returned, the two friends returned to their ship. Zaalbar squeezed Kyle's shoulder, then disappeared into the Ebon Hawk.

Kyle leaned against the landing gear and waited for half an hour.

Canderous and Bastila walked into the landing bay.

The mandalorian nodded to him and also walked onto the ship. Bastila did not. She stopped in front of Kyle,

"Walk with me?" she requested. Kyle didn't think he'd ever heard her _ask_ him to do anything.

He nodded slowly, and followed at her shoulder. She led him into the Enclave's central garden.

"I… would like to start again." Bastila said reluctantly.

Kyle said nothing.

"I know I have much to learn, I have only been a commander for a short time," the young Jedi said.

Kyle continued to say nothing.

"For the good of the republic though, I'm willing to forget… if you are," Bastila offered, waiting for his answer.

Kyle contemplated her warily, and Bastila probed at his mind, reading his emotions.

"Its _you_, isn't it," he said suddenly, breaking her focus.

"Excuse me?"

"What were you doing to me, a few seconds ago?" Kyle demanded.

_Soldiers hate being lied to_, Canderous had told her.

"I… I was trying to sense your emotions," Bastila admitted.

"Why?" Kyle asked.

Bastila shrugged, "Second nature."

"And that's why no one likes Jedi," Kyle sighed.

"We are a prestigious order, millions would gladly join our ranks if they possessed the aptitude!" Bastila protested.

"Because you're better than us," Kyle said bluntly, catching Bastila off-guard.

"Well… we do have certain advantages over non-Jedi…" Bastila said.

"Because you think Jedi are better," Kyle repeated flatly.

Bastila glared, "Yes. We have mastered our emotions, and bring harmony to—"

"You are the most arrogant woman I have ever known… second, actually. My mother-in-law is first," Kyle said thoughtfully.

Bastila glared at this annoying man, "I was _trying_ to apologize."

"No you weren't. You were offering me a pardon," Kyle argued.

"Does it matter?" Bastila asked.

Kyle turned to look out across a still pond, reflecting the sunset. She brushed the edge of his emotions, and _felt_ him withdraw from her.

She scowled, and hurled his identification tags at the back of his head, "We will continue this discussion later," she growled. She took only a step before she felt a surge of warning through the Force, and turned, just in time to catch Kyle's id tags with her face, which stung.

Kyle was gone.

((()))

Zhar nodded, inspecting her lightsaber, "You have done extremely well in the construction of your lightsaber, padawan, your crystals seem to have been set perfectly. It is rare indeed for that to happen the first time one constructs their lightsaber alone.

Your lightsaber identifies you as a member of the Jedi order. With such recognition comes honor… and the attention of dangerous enemies. The Sith and Dark Jedi will seek to destroy you.

You must prove yourself worthy in battle against a foe who also wields a lightsaber. Are you ready to face the final challenge, padawan?"

Bastila nodded, "I am ready."

"For every Jedi the threat of the darkside is always present. You must truly accept this before you will be granted your knighthood. You must see the corruption of the darkside for yourself. Even here on Dantooine there are places where the darkside holds sway, twisting and tainting nature itself. An ancient grove, once used by the Jedi for deep meditation has become… tainted. A wave of darkness perverts the region around it. The Kath hounds in the area have become savage and ruthless. They have become a threat to the settlers, a threat the Jedi have promised to stop.

You must journey to the center of the grove and confront the true source of the darkness. That is your task," Zhar said.

Bastila frowned, "Can you offer me no other guidance?"

Zhar shook his head, "I can say no more… and none of the Jedi are permitted to help you in this task…. But remember this: a Jedi acts with patience, and those on the Dark path are not always lost forever."

The comment hit closer to home than it should have.

((()))

It did not take Bastila overlong to reach the ancient grove Zhar had spoken of. She could feel the darkness, like a pulsing, rotting heart. She dismounted the swoop bike, and pulled her lightsaber off her back, keeping it in hand. As the young Jedi reached the edge of the grove, she hesitated. Bastila had been here before… but the grove was different. Weeds and thorned vines had sprouted, choking the golden barked trees. Before, the shade had been a pleasant reprieve from the sun, but now, it was oppressive and gloomy… a place of monsters.

_There is no emotion. There is peace._

The padawan tightened her grip on her weapon, and used the Force to push the wall of thorns aside, permitting her entrance. The darkness was strongest at the center of the grove…

The kath hounds attacked from multiple directions. Each resembled a nek battle-dog, but leaner, built for speed more than power. Their horned heads and sharp teeth were still deadly, however.

Bastila's lightsaber flared to life, and she wove through her enemies, her weapon a golden blur as she cut down the animals. One hound managed to mar the leather of her right boot before she decapitated it, but in less than half a minute, all of her enemies lay dead. The darkness in the grove was aware of her. Aware… and _outraged. _

Bastila only had a half second warning before a lightsaber came out of _nowhere_. Bastila deflected the blue blade. _Some form of Force camouflage_, Bastila realized, as her attacker suddenly became visible.

"I will be your doom!" her attacker howled, throwing a hail of dirt, twigs and bark at Bastila. The Jedi frowned, creating a wedge of Force in front of her, which deflected the attack harmlessly.

Bastila's opponent was strong, but lacked proper control over the Force… the attacks were sloppy.

As gold sparred with sapphire, Bastila continued to probe the abilities of her opponent…

"You are strong," Bastila's attacker panted grudgingly as they fought.

"Who are you?" Bastila demanded, hopping over a strike aimed at her knees, landing a kick on her enemy's sternum.

"I am JUHANI!" the alien female snarled, her backhand almost slipped past Bastila's guard.

"This is _MY_ grove!"

Bastila spotted the gap in her opponent's defense, and pounced, smashing the smaller Force-user against a tree with telekinesis, snatching the blue lightsaber away, into her waiting hand, crossing the blades near Juhani's throat. In the light of the weapons, Bastila realized how young her opponent was.

This _Juhani_, was a teenage Cathar (feline/humanoids).

"Why have you embraced the darkside?" Bastila asked.

Juhani sagged against the tree, "I slew my master Quatra, I know I can never go back. I needed power enough to crush the life from anyone who came to bring me back…"

Bastila shook her head, "The darkside is never powerful enough." She stepped back, lowering the blades to her sides, but she didn't shut them off.

Juhani slid down the tree until she was sitting in the dirt. She pulled her knees to her chin, and wrapped her arms around herself… looking very small, and lost.

"What do you want?" Juhani asked brokenly.

"I was sent by the Council to cleanse the taint from this grove," Bastila said levelly.

"The council sent you here to kill me?" Juhani asked, her eyes empty and flat.

"I do not wish to kill you, Juhani," Bastila told her.

Juhani laughed, a sick sound, "Is it not apparent that I can never be saved?"

"No one is beyond redemption," Bastila said firmly.

The fallen Jedi shook her head slowly, "I always thought they held me back, were jealous of my power… but it was only because I was not good enough to meet their standards… I never have been."

Bastila killed her lightsaber, and slipped it onto her back, keeping Juhani's blue lightsaber activated, for illumination if nothing else, "The first step on the path of true knowledge is knowing that you are ignorant," she said… realizing the irony… the mandalorian had tried to explain as much to her…

Juhani could not meet Bastila's eyes. The Jedi realized that the wild anger and hatred the teenager felt simply covered a vast sea of sorrow and pain.

"I wish the cost of my ignorance had not been so high. I wish my master had not suffered because of me," Juhani said, her voice trembling.

And at last, Bastila understood.

"Even in death the Force will allow her to live on," Bastila said, crouching near the teenage girl.

"If she were alive now… there is so much I would say to her. So much I would apologize for," the alien choked, wiping angrily at a few stubborn tears that escaped.

"I struck my Master down in anger…"

"Anger grows the tighter you hold it. Let it _go_," Bastila urged.

"I… I don't know how."

"Do you wish to walk the path of darkness?" Bastila prompted.

"No… but I don't know how to return…" Juhani said, helplessly.

"Do you want to go home?" Bastila asked, identifying what Juhani desired.

"Yes!" Juhani wept.

"Then take my hand," Bastila said softly. Juhani made several false starts, conflicted, but ultimately, she grabbed the older woman's hand… and held on desperately.

Bastila reached into her own core, and drew Juhani inside. It was a meditative exercise she had practiced, but never actually attempted with another.

_((Where are we?))_ Juhani asked, her thoughts echoing. The place had no sound, and was seemingly a white, empty plain, stretching into infinity. Five pillars stood in a pentagon around them, upon each, a single line of the Jedi Code had been carved.

_((This is my center, where I go to meditate)) _Bastila answered.

_((I have no place like this))_ Juhani admitted.

_((Not yet… but you will))_ Bastila promised.

It was a place of emptiness, a vacuum. Slowly, the anger and sorrow that choked Juhani began to loosen and flake from her, dissolving into nothingness. Both women sat in mirroring positions, and Juhani finally let go.

Bastila opened hear eyes, as did Juhani a moment later. They stood once more in the grove (they never left).

"I will return to the council and submit myself to their judgment," Juhani said, bowing her head.

Bastila's swoop carried two riders across the plains, and the darkness left the ancient grove.

Bastila did not hear the small voice, but she sensed the words: _thank you._

((()))

Bastila led her "prisoner" through the Enclave. Students whispered as they passed, recognizing Juhani. The young Cathar hung her head in shame, but did not stray from her captor's side. Bastila found Master Zhar in the training room, waiting. She handed him Juhani's lightsaber silently.

Zhar slipped the weapon through his belt, and smiled, "You have done well my pupil. The ancient grove has been purified, and Juhani's journey down the dark path has been halted. Because of you, she walks once more in the light. But though she was saved, do not dismiss what happened to her. Regardless, Juhani has been redeemed, and you have passed you final test. Congratulations padawan… or should I say, Jedi Knight?"

Bastila felt a strange warmth in her chest; Bastila Shan, Jedi Knight.

Zhar ushered Bastila into the Council chambers.

Master Dorak greeted them, "It is good to see Juhani has returned to the way of the light. You are to be commended in your role for this. You actions give us great hope for the future. Your trials are now complete, young knight. And now it is time we dealt with the ruins from Revan's memories."

Master Vrook nodded grimly, "We sent a Jedi to investigate the ruins… but he has not returned. Perhaps sending him in the first place was a mistake. Perhaps exploring the ruins is a task tied to your destiny. That is why we have decided that you should be the ones to investigate the ruins."

There was a commotion and a man barged into the council chambers, _shocking_ Bastila.

"I demand justice! The Sandral family is a blight upon Dantooine, they must be punished!" the man raged.

Vrook crooked an eyebrow at him calmly, "The council will look into this matter, Mr. Matale. You must be patient. Your accusations have no proof, and we do not want you stirring up trouble with the Sandrals, if there is some mistake."

This simply sent the balding man into a greater tantrum, "Mistake?! My son Shen is missing! How can there be any doubt that the Sandrals are to blame?"

Vrook's voice had grown softer and colder, "There are other possible explanations for your son's disappearance."

This _Mr. Matale_ faltered, partially cowed, but regained his bluster, "Bah! Jedi are good for nothing but talk! I will only wait so long before I take action on my own!"

He then stormed back out of the chambers, slamming the door behind him.

Bastila blinked, and exchanged a glance with Master Zhar.

Master Vrook massaged the bridge of his nose, scowling, "Insufferable warmongering fool…"

"Has Knight Balook completed his murder investigation?" Master Dorak asked.

"I believe so… both suspects were guilty…" Master Zhar answered.

"Assign him to investigate the disappearance of Shen Matale…" Vrook sighed.

"Excuse me, masters, but what of Juhani?" Bastila prompted.

"Decided later Juhani's fate will be," Master Vandar said. It was a polite request to get moving.

((()))

Bastila found Kyle a kilometer away from the Enclave. He had also appropriated several protocol droids, which were now scurrying for cover while Kyle sniped them. Since the droids weren't exploding, she guessed Kyle had set his blaster rifle to fire a low-power training laser, which was harmless.

"Did you need something?" Kyle asked, before holding his breath, and squeezing a firing stud. A droid froze, momentarily, nearly a hundred meters away before it resumed its erratic weaving and swaying.

"What are you doing?" Bastila sighed.

"Practicing," Kyle said curtly.

"Is that a training laser?" Bastila asked.

"No. I rerouted the firing mechanism to only use the laser assembly, instead, so the galven circuitry and blaster gas were bypassed," Kyle said.

"It's a training laser," Bastila said flatly.

"A training laser is a laser mocked up to look like a weapon. This _is_ a weapon, if I flip _this_ switch," Kyle explained.

Bastila sat down next to the commando, silently, for a time.

"I need your help."

Kyle stopped shooting, but did not tear his gaze away from the scope.

"The Council has assigned me to investigate a ruin not far from here. They already sent one Jedi, but he has not returned."

"I'm sorry," Kyle said, setting his blaster rifle down, and popping the seals on his helmet.

"Excuse me?" Bastila asked, she almost reached out to probe him, but decided against it.

"Just a moment. Mission bugged my comlink," Kyle said, fiddling with his helmet. He set it aside, and looked at Bastila. Even without probing she could sense his embarrassment through the Bond.

"I've never had this much trouble with a superior officer, and I think I know why, now." The commando continued. He was silent for a long moment, but Bastila knew this was difficult for the man.

"You remind me of her… sometimes," he said, and the pain that washed through the Bond hit Bastila in the gut like a sucker punch from a gammorean.

"Who?" Bastila gasped, trying to distance herself from the Bond.

"My wife…" he sighed.

"You were married?" Bastila asked. _That hadn't been in the service log…_

"For seven years. Then the mandalorians came…" Kyle said harshly.

"You married young…" Bastila commented, counting back the years, he would have been eighteen.

"This was Deralia. You grew up fast on that rock, or you died. Pirates, asteroid showers… hungry predators…" Kyle smiled softly, staring off into the distance.

"What happened?" Bastila asked.

"The Mandalorians came. We fought… and the Mandalorians honored us as worthy adversaries. Unlike other planets, they did not bombard us from orbit. They chose to destroy us face to face, as warriors."

"I'm sorry," Bastila whispered.

"Don't be. They were the happiest days of my life… running, hiding, fighting, with Veri by my side…" Kyle said, his smile marred by the tear running down his cheek.

"What happened to your wife?" Bastila asked quietly.

"She miscarried… and fell ill. We didn't have access to proper medical supplies… she died…"

Bastila stared at her hands, "I didn't see that in your service records."

"You wouldn't. Deralia wasn't big on records."

"Were you alone after your wife… passed?" Bastila asked.

"No. Ricki was with me." Kyle said.

"Ricki?" Bastila asked.

"Vilh_riki_'Mahrgat," Kyle clarified.

"Ah, the devaronian commando from your team…" Bastila realized.

"Yeah. He was from Deralia too… visiting family when the Mandalorians came," Kyle said reluctantly.

Bastila felt Kyle closing off again, walling away painful memories.

"I apologize as well," Bastila said.

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"I would value any advice you or Captain Onasi are willing to provide in our mission," Bastila said… and she realized that she meant it.

"It seems I am not the only one who did some soul searching…" Kyle said, curious.

"I was given the rank of Commander due to my abilities with Battle Meditation, not for my grasp of battlefield tactics or strategy… to improve, I will need all of the help I can find," Bastila admitted. She held the commando's ID tags in her hand, and offered them.

Kyle nodded slowly, before slipping his tags back under his collar. "Sergeant Kyle Draven, ready for action."

((()))

Bastila peered at the entrance to the burial mound… which was open. It reminded her of a hungry mouth.

Kyle glanced over at the newly knighted Jedi, and shouldered his blaster rifle. She strove to maintain serenity and center herself in the Force, but Kyle was making it difficult. His emotions were leaking through the Bond, into her.

"Sergeant, please calm yourself," Bastila requested.

"I thought you stopped reading my thoughts," Kyle said.

"But you're _shouting,_" Bastila explained.

"Can't you… plug your ears or something?" Kyle asked.

"Not without losing awareness of my surroundings," Bastila said.

They entered the gloomy entrance, and Kyle switched his helmet to IR… but something in the ruins was interfering with his helmet.

"Commander, I'm experiencing fluctuations in my Heads-Up-Display," Kyle reported, stopping to adjust the settings on the side of his helmet.

He also felt a pervasive chill… but only in his bones and chest.

"The darkside is strong here… so strong…" Bastila whispered.

Kyle disabled his HUD, and his Infra-Red filters as well. He activated a spot-lamp on his helmet, which seemed unaffected by the phenomenon, illuminating the gloom.

The walls aappeared to be coated in something similar to oil, reflecting and absorbing the light.

"There are spirits, whispering… they're angry, frightened… they don't understand what has happened," Bastila said, frowning, as she concentrated.

Then, with a shiver, Kyle heard whispers, skirting the edges of his perception.

"I hear them too," he said, unnerved.

They didn't sound like _happy_ whispers either.

The cold intensified, and Kyle grunted in pain.

Bastila grabbed his arm, and suddenly, the chill was gone, but she was sweating.

"What did you do?" Kyle asked.

"The spirits are trying to ensnare us. I'm holding them back," Bastila said, shrugging.

"How long can you hold them?" Kyle asked.

"They are mere wisps of forgotten power, but their numbers are legion. I suggest we hurry," Bastila replied. Kyle nodded, and moved deeper into the ruins. The tunnel wound deeper and deeper into the earth. As they descended, the mist grew thicker, and Kyle thought he saw half-formed shapes in the nebulous gas, but every time he looked at them directly, they vanished, playing at the edge of his vision, and the narrow beam of light from his helmet. He also felt strangely detached, as if this were a dream.

He thrust a hand out, stopping Bastila. _The tile there, it is a pressure plate_.

He guided his commander around the device, continuing on.

The passage terminated in a door, but it was no longer sealed. Cautiously Kyle entered, panning his light. A bronze statue of a vaguely aquatic humanoid alien stood in the center of the room, but the vaulted chamber was empty. Kyle saw a second door behind the statue, but it was sealed.

"_Shar'dkee, wudda worda ee'wuly ra?"_ someone demanded. Kyle jerked, and saw that the _statue_ was a _droid_. Its joints and servos were so well hidden, the metal seemed to be like flesh as it moved… but Kyle didn't see _any_ joints. It looked like the statue had simply come to life.

"That isn't a droid," Bastila said quietly.

"Then what the hell is it?" Kyle asked, ready to reduce the statue into pieces if it took another step.

Bastila probed the construct, and to her horror, realized that it contained an actual spirit, trapped and bound by cruel hooks into the creation.

"I think it's some form of Sith Alchemy," Bastila said tentatively.

"Basic, please," Kyle said curtly.

"The dark side of the force is used to animate inanimate objects with the life-force of a living creature," Bastila explained.

The creature howled something in a guttural language, but Kyle realized it was a question, and didn't fire.

"I think it's trying to communicate, by cycling through a variety of languages," Bastila said.

_((I can reproduce any of the languages spoken by the slaves of the Builders))_ the statue said, in an archaic variant of _selk'athi_.

"I understood that," Kyle said softly.

"What did it say?" Bastila asked.

"It said it can speak any language of the slaves of the builders," Kyle interpreted.

"What language is it?" Bastila asked.

"It's an archaic variant of the language spoken by the Selkath, on Manaan." Kyle said.

"Why would this creature be programmed with that language?" Bastila wondered.

_((Communication was vital to ensure that the slaves constructed this temple according to the wishes of the Builders))_ the statue explained, and Kyle translated for Bastila.

_((But you are not of the slave species. Neither are you of the Builders. You are like the ones who came before.))_

"It must be referring to Revan and Malak. They likely encountered this… entity… when they explored these ruins," Bastila guessed.

"Are you some kind of guardian?" Kyle asked.

The disturbing statue made a strange bobbing motion, _((I am the Overseer. The Builders created me to enforce discipline among the slaves while this monument to the power of the Star Forge was constructed. At project completion all slaves were executed. I was repurposed to serve should a Builder return in search of knowledge of the Star Forge. _

"How long have you been here?" Bastila asked.

_((My chronological circuits have marked over ten full revolutions of this system's outermost planet around the sun since the Builders departed.))_

"Ten revolutions?" Bastila did some quick calculations in her head, "That would take more than twenty-thousand years. If this is true, then this ruin is nearly five thousand years older than the Republic itself! There must be some mistake." Bastila looked at Kyle, "Are you sure you translated correctly?"

"Yes." Kyle said.

_((There is no mistake. The Builders created my chronological circuitry using the technology of the Star Forge itself. My calculations are infallible.))_

"What is the Star Forge?" Bastila asked.

_((The Star Forge is the glory of the Builders, the apex of their infinite empire. It is a machine of invincible might, a tool of unstoppable conquest.))_

"But what is it? What does it do?" Bastila pressed.

_((The… the Star Forge is the glory of the Builders, the apex of their infinite empire. It is a machine of invincible might, a tool of unstoppable conquest.))_ the statue repeated.

"This entity does not possess the knowledge we seek…" Bastila sighed.

"Compartmentalization of information?" Kyle suggested.

Bastila nodded, distracted, "This _Star Forge_ sounds like some type of weapon… but it could be anything."

_Weapon_ didn't sound right, for some reason.

"Could… could it have been a factory, or weapons plant?" he suggested.

"Why do you say that?" Bastila asked.

"The creature said he was _created _by the Star Forge," Kyle pointed out.

"It would explain how Revan created a fleet so quickly… but I suspect the Star Forge is more powerful than a mere factory…" Bastila mused.

"Who are the Builders?" Kyle asked.

_((The Builders are the great masters of the galaxy, the conquerors of all worlds, the rulers of the infinite empire and the creators of the Star Forge))_

"They sound like an extinct people… but it is strange that there is no record of their existence… in the years before the Republic, the Hutts were a dominant power in the galaxy… but they never constructed an empire." Bastila sighed.

"Perhaps the Builders _are_ extinct," Kyle suggested.

The statue did not seem to like that idea,

_((The empire of the Builders is infinite and everlasting! None can stand against their might and the power of the Star Forge!))_

"Have you seen a Builder recently?" Bastila asked.

The statue hesitated, _((I have been here ever since the completion of this monument. In all this time, no Builder has returned to seek information on the Star Forge))_

"Tell us about Revan and Malak. The ones who came before," Bastila said.

_((The ones who came before you – the ones like you, not-Builders, not-slaves –_

_sought knowledge of the Star Forge and its origins. They proved themselves worthy. They discovered the secrets of the Star Forge locked beyond the door behind me. Others have tried, all have died.))_

"How can we prove ourselves worthy?" Bastila asked.

_((Enter the proving grounds behind me. Within them those who understand the will of the Builders can unlock their secrets and open the doors. Those who fail will be destroyed by the power of the temple itself. More than this, I do not know.))_

"We have to learn more about the Star Forge," Bastila said firmly.

"We are ready," Kyle told the entity.

The statue gestured, and the door behind it opened.

Kyle and Bastila entered the passage cautiously. The door closed behind them with a hiss.

_Trapped._

Cautiously, the pair advanced, and Bastila felt the presence of the spirits intensify, drawing beads of sweat from her forehead.

Another statue, made of a red/gold metal stood in the center of a chamber identical to the one where they had encountered the Overseer. If not for the color, this room might have been mistaken for it… and the bodies lying in the corner. Kyle cautiously sidestepped towards them, keeping his weapon trained on the motionless statue. He looked down at the corpses.

Both were male humans.

A man who had been in his late sixties was dressed in the robes of a Jedi Knight, and he had been strangled, his cloudy eyes bulging. This was apparently the Jedi the council had sent to investigate the ruins.

The second corpse was that of a strongly muscled young man with dark skin, dressed in a tunic and leggings of durable cloth. The young man had also been strangled. Kyle glanced at the datapad, and saw it was mostly filled with archeological notations…

"Bastila…" Kyle said, showing the datapad to her.

She recognized the name of the owner: _Cassus Sandral_.

Kyle saw movement behind Bastila, "Look out!" he shoved her, and the statue's punch only clipped her shoulder, spinning her to the ground.

Kyle opened fire, his blaster rifle on full automatic. The bolts seemed to stagger it, but didn't seem to harm the statue in any way. The droid forced its way towards him against the flow of bolts. Kyle rolled to the side at the last second, still firing, but he retreated from the droid. When it turned to pursue him, Bastila darted in from the side, and tried to cut it in half at the waist. She only had one blade active, and used the full length of her lightsaber's shaft for leverage as she struck. The statue stumbled and fell, catching itself, but its exterior was untouched by her weapon. She threw a telekinetic blast at the machine. The heavy blow seemed to skitter over the surface of the statue's skin, unable to gain purchase.

"I can't harm it with the Force!" Bastila said, shocked.

"Energy weapons aren't doing much either," Kyle agreed.

"I can't sense it!" she continued.

_Terrific_.

Kyle pulled the EMP stylus from his belt, "Get its attention!" Kyle told her.

Bastila engaged the statue with a furious barrage of blows, and it tried to grab hold of her. Kyle ran forward, and jammed the EMP stylus to the back of its torso, where most droid capacitors were located. (he knew it wasn't a droid, but capacitors were kept there for a reason…) The statue seized for a moment, then spun, knocking Kyle across the room, to slam into a wall with unbelievable force.

Kyle felt something snap, but aside from being winded, he was fine… his back felt weird, and his helmet's spot-lamp had been smashed. When Kyle stood up and his chest plate tried to slither off, Kyle realized his reinforced plastoid back plate had split down the middle.

"You broke my armor!" Kyle snarled, annoyed. He tightened the webbing straps, which mostly stabilized the chest plate.

When the statue turned its back on him, as Bastila drew it away from the winded commando, he saw a flickering section on its back, where he'd used the EMP stylus.

_It's shielded_.

Kyle spotted his blaster rifle, and headed towards it, but he kicked something half-way there. Kyle looked down at the rolling cylinder, and recognized it as a lightsaber. He grabbed it, and found the activation stud.

Bastila's heart had jumped into her throat when she saw Kyle hit the wall… but he seemed fine. She had no idea how she was going to defeat this foe. None of her weapons could even harm it. A dark shape rose up behind the droid, and an emerald blade appeared with a snap-hiss… Kyle buried the lightsaber to the hilt… and to her surprise, it erupted from the statue's chest. The statue slowly crumpled.

"How did you…?"

Kyle pointed to the back of the statue, "The thing is shielded somehow. The EMP disrupted part of it, and I stabbed it." He offered the lightsaber to Bastila, but she pushed it back, "Hold onto it for now."

"Was that the Jedi they sent ahead of us?" Kyle asked, gesturing with his chin to the dead Jedi Knight.

"Yes… his name was Nemo… a quiet man," Bastila said sadly.

The door to the next chamber shuddered open, and the pair eyed it warily.

Kyle slipped his blaster rifle onto his back, cinching the strap down to further secure his back-plate. Then he ignited Nemo's lightsaber, holding his EMP stylus in his other hand, "Ready?"

Bastila nodded, and followed him into the next room.

((()))

Carth sat across from Mission, staring at the cards in his hand, then back at the girl, who smiled sweetly at him.

"I _know_ you're cheating," Carth growled. He had lost seventeen hands in a row.

"Maybe I'm just too good, old man," the impudent twelve-year old giggled.

"Fine," Carth grumbled, flipping a +3 card from his deck onto the table.

Mission placed a +7 card from her hand on the table, next to her, a total of 19.

Carth's cards counted at 14. He had a +1, and a +3 in his hand. Neither one would save him… so he reached for his main deck, and flipped another card over…

+7.

He'd lost, again.

Carth sighed.

"We can play something else if you want," Mission suggested.

"Ever heard of _Quadrant?_" Carth asked wickedly.

((()))

"Bastila!" Kyle shouted, trying to scramble away from one of the statues. There were _two_… and they were a _lot_ faster. He ducked under a golden punch and danced in close, stabbing his EMP stylus against the bastard's face. The machine/thing reared back, screaming, and before he could move back, it kicked him in the chest. Fortunately for Kyle, the two machines weren't as strong as the first… but he still needed a moment to recover his wits, a moment Bastila gave him, furiously battering both machines away from him.

Kyle scrambled to his feet, and charged the machine with the damaged face. He didn't know if the things could repair their shields or not. He jumped, crashing into his opponent, and both tumbled to the ground… but as the machine grabbed his throat, he stabbed Nemo's lightsaber into its face. Then a blast of air slammed into the commando, sending him into a tumble, and the second machine's blow that would have broken his neck missed entirely. Unfortunately, Kyle snapped the EMP stylus as he rolled uncontrollably.

Bastila arrested his roll with her shins, and slugged the chasing machine with a hefty two-handed swing, bolstering her strength with subtle telekinesis of her weapon. The machine flew through the air and rolled with insect-like grace to all fours, staring at her.

"Kyle, get up," she urged.

"_Ossik_… the EMP's broken," Kyle snarled, hurling the useless halves at the machine.

Nemo's lightsaber was also still plunged in the first machine's face.

With a chill, Bastila watched the surviving machine extract the weapon, and examine it… then the eyeless face looked at her, and charged, swinging Nemo's lightsaber.

Kyle yelled, and scrambled out of the way. Bastila stepped forward, catching the blade near the tip high in its arc, and used her superior leverage to twist the blade around. Kyle watched the fight unfold, and slowly drew his knife. It wasn't an energy weapon, so maybe…

Bastila fought hard against her opponent, who was stronger than her, but not quite as fast. Unfortunately, her weapon couldn't harm it.

Kyle slammed into the machine, and stabbed it with his knife, but the blade just skittered off its back. His weight did bear it to the ground however. Kyle scrambled away before the machine could react, sheathing his weapon.

Bastila realized she had fought a similar opponent. The bounty hunter, Calo Nord. She had hit him with an object, held in telekinesis…

"Kyle, keep it occupied!" Bastila shouted.

Kyle laughed darkly, what the hell was he supposed to do to— _shit!_ He ducked under the green lightsaber, and swept the machine's ankles with his leg.

Bastila stabbed her lightsaber into the stone floor, and started carving out a chunk the size of her head.

Kyle needed to get the lightsaber away from the machine. The machine backhanded him, and he crashed onto his back… next to the first dead machine. Kyle grabbed an arm and heaved, shoving the deceptively light machine at its comrade, who simply swatted the obstacle aside with the lightsaber. Then the machine disappeared with a thunderous clang, dropping the lightsaber.

Bastila did not release her telekinetic grip on the rock, she swung it back around and threw it at the machine with all the Force she could muster (in every meaning of the word), smashing the statue's head with the rock again. She drew back, and smashed the machine again and again, each time the machine moved a little more sluggishly. Kyle stood next to his commander, Nemo's lightsaber in his hand.

"Need a bigger rock?" Kyle asked.

"Yes. Something four times the size of this one, please," Bastila panted. Kyle dragged the weapon's blade through the stone in a circle, at an angle, creating a cone of stone…

Bastila let her stone drop, and plucked the bigger rock out of the floor, feeling its weight… it was so heavy…

She heaved it to chest height, and threw every last scrap of strength at the machine. She felt the dark side specters swarm around her, no longer held in check. She felt so cold…

Kyle felt the chill return, and the machine was still moving, weakly, its shield sparking in dozens of places, pinned by the stone plug that had crushed its legs and pelvis.

The commando wasted no words, he just fed Nemo's lightsaber to the machine.

The door opened, its machines slain. Kyle's arms felt heavy, and he dropped Nemo's weapon, turning to Bastila, who was curled into a ball, clutching her head. It looked like she was screaming, but Kyle could only hear angry whispers, which were swiftly growing into roars, hammering at his mind. They wanted him to lie down… give up.

_Why?_ A voice asked, annoyed.

Kyle nodded in agreement, he didn't feel like lying down.

_Save the girl._ The voice suggested, bored.

That was a good idea. Kyle staggered drunkenly to Bastila, and grabbed her awkwardly in loose limbs, holding her like a rock against his chest.

_Walk. Do it_. The voice barked.

"Yes sir," Kyle whispered, placing one foot in front of the other, each step harder than the last as the pressure around his head increased.

Then he crossed over into the next room, and the pressure vanished, but the chill remained. The voice also disappeared.

Bastila _was_ screaming.

((()))

"Alright Mission, this is a game us old men play," Carth said smugly, sitting at the controls of the Ebon Hawk's holoprojector.

"I've never heard of it," Mission said flatly.

"That's because the only ones who really use this are aspiring naval officers," Carth chuckled.

"It's simple," Carth continued, and jumped into a quick explanation of the game.

_Quadrant _was essentially a real-time naval battle simulator. It was conducted in three dimensions. The space was divided into box-grids, arranged 64x64x64. Both sides consisted of a varying arrangement of dreadnaughts, battleships, cruisers, carriers, frigates, destroyers, corvettes, patrol craft, and fighter squadrons. Each unit type had a specific _cost_ and a fleet could not exceed 64 points. One of these ships would be secretly picked by the player to be their command ship. If it was lost, then they could no longer issue orders, and their fleet would try to win the game on its own… which was usually the same as losing.

"Alright… so this is like a war game," Mission said, intrigued.

Carth smiled, and "_Exactly_ like a war game…" he promised.

He quickly programmed his fleet from memory, remembering the ideal balance of strengths and weaknesses he had devised after years of playing the game in his off-duty hours.

Mission however, took longer, considering the ships available, peering at their capabilities and shortcomings, then she too was ready.

"Begin," Carth said, and the two fleets materialized in tiny holographic detail.

He'd designated his carrier as his flagship. As a new player, Mission had probably selected her strongest ship, her Dreadnaught, to carry her flag.

Kyle organized his ships and launched his carrier's fighters, keeping three squadrons of interceptors to screen his ships from enemy fighters.

Mission kept her ships in tight formation, the massive dreadnaught at the center, strengthening Carth's assumption. Her three cruisers and six destroyers screened it, as well as a dozen fighter squadrons.

Carth sent his battleship to harass her rearmost destroyer, whose lighter armor and shielding, as well as relative lack of heavy weapons, left it vulnerable to the bigger capital ship's attentions. Mission overreacted, sending half her fighters (bombers mostly) to attack the battleship. It had few anti-fighter weapons, essentially serving as a capital ship killer.

It did, however, carry a squadron of interceptors, which Carth scrambled, surprising Mission, which began to tear into her bombers.

Thus distracted, Carth drove three of his destroyers into the middle of her formation as a wedge, disrupting its cohesion. While she scrambled to repel him, he slipped his corvettes, designed to protect larger ships from star fighters, into her screen of fighters.

The battleship winked out of existence, destroyed by Mission's bombers… but she only had fourteen damaged bombers left out of the seventy-two that had attacked.

Carth's destroyers were suffering at the hands of Mission's dreadnaught, and he reinforced the attack with both of his frigates, and cruisers. His carrier was hanging back from the battle, protected by his last destroyer and an interceptor screen.

Carth's cruisers finished wiping out Mission's destroyers, but fell prey to the dreadnaught, which had sustained heavy damage, but was still operational.

Carth lost a corvette, but most of Mission's fighter screen had been eradicated, aside from a few broken stragglers, which Carth's interceptors quickly disposed of.

Carth sent the surviving trio of corvettes to attack the dreadnaught at close range, which occupied her ship's gunners while the heavier armed frigates closed, and began pounding the dreadnaught. He lost his corvettes, but they had served their purpose as a screen for the frigates. With a sudden flash, the dreadnaught exploded, leaving only Carth's pair of frigates, his carrier, destroyer, and several squadrons of interceptors on the battle field.

GAME OVER

"Care to go again? I'm feeling my age," Carth teased.

"Time for your nap, you geezer," Mission growled, cracking her knuckles.

((()))

Bastila felt the visions recede, and although the darkside still clung to her like frost, the sharp claws of the spirits had vanished… and she was being carried like a child.

"Put me down," Bastila demanded.

"Yes sir," Kyle said, setting his commander down on her feet.

"Are you injured?" Bastila asked: he looked terrible. Kyle's already battle scarred armor looked ready to fall apart at any moment, held together more by his equipment harness than anything else.

"Sprains, bruises… nothing serious," Kyle shrugged.

"I am uninjured as well," Bastila nodded.

They resumed walking through the corridor, until they reached another sealed door. This one held no guardian, but Bastila recognized it from Revan's memory.

She retreated into her center, and in the empty white plain, she recalled Revan's memory, paying particular attention to his actions. Still in the memory, she reach out to the door, in the physical world, and placed her hand on the unnatural surface, feeling her skin crawl.

Bastila mimicked the subtle manipulations of Force Revan had done.

Kyle watched the commander touch the wall, and some of the symbols started lighting up. With a shudder, Bastila snatched her hand back, and the door began to slowly sink into the floor. A very thick, solid looking door…

As they stepped through into the next room, Kyle asked, "Shouldn't we prop something in the door?"

"Why?" Bastila asked.

"Because every _other_ door closed behind us?"

Kyle heard a rumble behind him and sighed, "Too late."

"If necessary, we'll cut our way out," Bastila assured him.

"Unless its _beskar_… or shielded like the statues…" Kyle replied pessimistically.

"Is there a problem, sergeant?" Bastila asked, picking up on his anxiety, and realized it had nothing to do with combat.

"Don't much care for enclosed spaces, ma'am," Kyle admitted.

The glow from the lightsabers seemed to die only a meter away from the blades, as if the air were made of ink.

This did not make Kyle feel any better about the already disturbing room.

Metallic sounds came out of the darkness at them, echoing eerily, and the two went back to back, waiting for the threat to show itself… but instead, something began to glow in the darkness.

It resembled a black sphere the size of a man's head… but light rippled around it's edge, as if it were a moon eclipsing the sun. Bastila had never seen anything like it…

Then the sphere exploded. Spheres of light shot out, enveloping the massive circular room, illuminating it for the first time. It was a map of the galaxy… the solar systems and sectors spun lazily, just stars, floating around the room.

"This… this must be what Revan and Malak found when they entered the temple… and their journey down the dark side began."

"It's a map…" Kyle said flatly.

"And we can use it to find the Star Forge…" Bastila said, excited.

"It doesn't look complete…" Kyle observed, unable to locate Deralia, or even Corellia, or Coruscant.

"There are a lot of systems missing…" Bastila agreed.

Several of the stars had strange red symbols floating over them. Kyle reached out and grabbed one, on impulse.

The star expanded in his hand from a bead to something the size of an over ripe melon.

Now marble sized planets circled the star, and his hand.

"That looks like Korriban," Bastila said, coming to stand at Kyle's shoulder, pointing to a reddish planet.

"It has the right number of planets… correct type of star… similar speed of rotation… I think you're right," Kyle agreed, letting go of the star. It collapsed back down into a bead, and resumed its course.

"There's another one," Kyle said, pointing. Bastila grabbed it, expanding the view.

"If that was Korriban, then this is Kashyyyk," Bastila said.

Kyle grabbed another bead with the red markings, judging from its location to Korriban, and the characteristics of its system, twin suns, "Tattooine," Kyle called.

Bastila looked up from the other side of the room, "And this one is Manaan…"

"I don't see any other marked systems…" Kyle said.

"Wait, here, Dantooine!" Bastila said, pouncing. This symbol was different, and as soon as she grabbed it, a red line shot from it, and started snaking away, but large parts of the line were missing.

"Some of the coordinates are missing… corrupted data…"

"Perhaps these other worlds have more data…" Kyle suggested.

Bastila stepped forward, and touched the glowing sphere that had sprouted this miniature galaxy. "This device works along principles similar to a holocron… the Force was used to inscribe this data…"

"Could we take it with us?" Kyle asked, eyeing the room for traps.

"The sphere is self contained… and draws its power from the pedestal… but no… I don't think it can be detached, there's some sort of magnetic resonance," Bastila said, frustrated.

"How did Revan and Malak store the information?" Kyle asked.

"I'm not sure… the vision was incomplete…" Bastila sighed.

_((The ones who came before brought a portable device, with which to inscribe the information they sought. I believe they referred to it as a holocron))_ a statue said.

Kyle raised Nemo's lightsaber, but recognized the weathered statue as the Overseer.

"Will we be permitted to return with such a device? Or will we have to reprove our worth?" Kyle asked.

_((You have proven yourself worthy. You will not be hindered, should you return)) _the statue replied.

Kyle realized the doors had opened behind them.

"I believe that's our cue…" Kyle said carefully.

((()))

"How did you do that?" Mission demanded, glaring at the GAME OVER.

"Your fleet was only half the size of mine!" Mission moaned.

"Because, kid, I've had nearly twenty years of experience… and I know how to coordinate my fighter squadrons better than you," Carth explained.

"I wonder what's taking Kyle and Bastila so long…" Mission said.

"The Council sent them on some errand or other. I'm sure they're fine," Carth assured her.

"I bet they're _more_ than fine…" Mission giggled.

Carth raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

((()))

"I've been thinking, sir," Kyle said, shifting his grip on the corpse he had over his shoulder, "We stand a much better chance of reaching these worlds, especially Korriban, if we mocked the Ebon Hawk up as an actual trade vessel, or even as a smuggler ship."

"And how do we explain your armor? Will you go without?" Bastila asked, gently setting Nemo's body in the back of the Enclave speeder, shortly joined by Cassus Sandral.

"I moved around on Taris just fine," Kyle said, "I can do the same there. Besides, I could always pose as a mercenary, with more generic combat armor of some kind," he shrugged.

"We don't even know if the Council will send us to those worlds," Bastila argued.

"If they _do_ though… we'll need someone to alter our ship's registry, mock up false identities… a few shielded compartments…" Kyle's eyes became distant, as he began to plan.

"Very well, sergeant. If we are given the mission to pursue this Star Forge, then _you_ are in charge of procuring mission supplies and materials," Bastila promised him.

Kyle grinned at her, and he looked like an overgrown boy for a moment, "You probably shouldn't have done that."

"I know…" Bastila sighed.

((()))

Master Dorak's eyebrows rose when he heard they wanted an _empty_ holocron.

"I can see if I have one in the archives…" he said, intrigued, and left.

"Is Knight Balook still investigating the disappearance of Shen Matale?" Bastila asked.

Master Zhar nodded, "He is at the Matale estate as we speak."

"We found the body of Cassus Sandral in the ruins, killed by one of its guardians," Bastila said.

"I will contact Knight Balook at once," Zhar said, worried.

"Discovered have you what Revan sought?" Master Vandar asked.

"It was… a map," Bastila said.

"A map to where?" Vrook asked.

"It was damaged, but it seemed to be attempting to lead us to the Star Forge." Bastila answered.

"Can it be repaired?" Zhar asked.

"I don't believe so… but there may be other worlds with similar maps, specifically Tattooine, Kashyyyk, Korriban, and Manaan."

Vrook and Vandar exchanged a meaningful glance.

"Your mission has not changed, Knight Shan," Vrook said grimly.

"Discover you must the location of this _Star Forge_," Master Vandar agreed.

"Know that the Republic has no warships to spare for this endeavor at the moment," Vrook continued.

"So it may be some time before—"

Someone coughed politely at the back of the audience chamber.

All eyes turned to the man in terribly battered armor, "I beg the forgiveness of the Council, but may I make a suggestion?" he asked meekly.

"Speak you may," Vandar said.

"We have a ship," the man said.

"You are referring to the freighter you escaped Taris with?" Zhar asked.

"Yes sir. With a little work, we can easily change its registry, and use it to pose as merchants, or independent traders. It would give us a much smaller profile than a Republic warship, and several of those planets are in contested space."

"Secrecy would be of more use than martial might…" Master Vrook agreed slowly.

"And we wouldn't have to wait," the soldier finished.

The masters looked at each other for several long minutes, and Kyle began to feel unnerved. Then the smallest master nodded, as if they'd been conducting a telepathic meeting.

"The Council has decided that Knight Shan will journey to these planets in disguise aboard the freighter, to discover the secrets of the Star Forge," Master Vrook said.

"Thank you Masters," Bastila bowed.

"The more Jedi we send with you, the greater the chances you will be detected," Master Zhar said.

"Actually, may I request that those who accompanied me from Taris be assigned to this mission?" Bastila asked.

"The mission is yours. You may recruit who you see fit, Knight Shan," Master Vrook grunted.

"I was also wondering, what will become of Juhani?" Bastila asked.

"Although Juhani has been redeemed, there are few Knights at the Enclave, and all possess apprentices of their own. Those few are reluctant to accept a second apprentice, especially in light of the fate Quatra suffered…" Master Zhar apologized.

"What does that mean?" Bastila asked.

"Juhani will have to wait to resume her training until she is chosen by a Knight," Vrook said bluntly.

"With your permission then, may I take on Juhani as my apprentice?" Bastila asked.

Vrook's craggy brows rose, genuinely surprised, "You have been knighted for less than a day, and already you feel ready for the _responsibilities_ of training an apprentice?"

"I was also responsible for her redemption, Master Vrook. I believe I can help Juhani," Bastila said firmly.

"That is your right of course… but consider where your mission may take you… Juhani has tasted the darkside, and may face temptation again…" Vrook said, worried.

"Then she is aware of what is at stake, Masters."

Reluctantly Master Vandar nodded, "Your apprentice Juhani shall be."

Bastila and Kyle bowed, and left the chambers.

Master Dorak approached them, and handed Bastila a small cube, made of some kind of crystal, that glowed faintly with an inner blue light.

"This holocron was prepared for Master Sidorak to record his teachings, but he has agreed to wait for another holocron to be presented to him," Master Dorak said with a faint smile.

"_Thank you_, Chronicler," Bastila said gratefully.

"Oh, I believe it is Master Sidorak who would like to thank _you_. He has long postponed recording his teachings, until we finally cornered him last month. He will be grateful for the reprieve," Master Dorak chuckled.

"Do you want me to accompany you?" Kyle asked, worried.

"I should be fine. I am a Jedi Knight, remember?" Bastila said lightly, but Kyle's brown eyes were grim, "So was Nemo," he said softly, presenting the fallen Jedi's lightsaber to her, and Bastila felt a slight tingle shoot up her arm when her finger's brushed his.

Curious.

"I'll begin preparations, then," Kyle said.

"Try to be careful," he called over his shoulder.

Bastila watched him leave, then glanced down at the holocron. She had a mission.

((()))

Kyle spotted Canderous strapping his weapons to a swoop bike, preparing to leave.

"Leaving?" Kyle asked.

"A transport finally arrived in Garang, it's headed for Corellia," Canderous said with a shrug.

"Could I tempt you to stay?" Kyle asked.

"And why would I do that?" Ordo asked bluntly.

"I'm in charge of mission planning… and I think we need someone with your skills to succeed," Kyle said, equally blunt. Ordo didn't appreciate flattery, but he was a sucker for professionalism.

"Oh?" Canderous asked, curious.

"We've finally been let off the leash by the Council, and we're taking the fight to the Sith. You interested?" Kyle said, crossing his arms.

"Do I have to follow the _Jettai's_ orders?" Canderous growled.

"Not if you're an independent advisor…" Kyle said, smirking.

Ordo took his helmet off, and looked at the commando. His rugged face didn't betray anything he was thinking…

"I've killed more worthy opponents in the time I've let you tag along then in all my time serving Davik…" the man spat Davik's name like a foul taste from his mouth.

"And now you're going after the Sith? An enemy whose numbers cannot be counted?" Canderous chewed his lip thoughtfully, then smiled. A very disturbing expression.

"It sounds _glorious_."

Kyle held out his hand, and Canderous shook it, almost crushing the smaller man's hand.

"Now, I have a favor to ask you…" Kyle said carefully.

"Don't worry. I'll do this for free," Canderous assured him, chuckling as he began to unload the swoop bike.

"Do you have any… black market… contacts?" Kyle asked.

"Yes…" Ordo said darkly.

"I need some supplies…" Kyle said, holding a datapad out to the mercenary.

"So go get them," Canderous shrugged.

"I'm in charge of preparing the Ebon Hawk as well…" Kyle said.

"Ah… this is that _delegation_ thing you Republic types do…" Canderous said, taking the datapad.

"No, this is a _favor_, I'm asking," Kyle corrected.

"Okay," Canderous said, casting a cursory glance at the items, slapping Kyle on the shoulder. This loosened the webbing strap, and the chestplate fell forward.

"Oh… you really do need new armor," Canderous chuckled.

"What happened to you?" Mission asked, when Kyle walked quickly aboard.

"Some statues didn't like me," Kyle said cryptically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the teen asked.

"Is Carth and Zaalbar onboard?" Kyle asked.

"Yeah, the old man's in his bunk, and Big Z… uh… I think he's eating," Mission said.

"Can you get them for me? I need to talk to you all," Kyle said, running his armored hand through his short cropped hair.

"Sure."

((()))

Bastila approached the Overseer, but the statue saw her, and the door behind it opened, and it said something in Selkath, but Kyle wasn't there. She just nodded and walked past it, her lightsaber in hand, holocron safely stored in a pouch on the back of her belt.

When she entered the first trial chamber, she froze. The statue Kyle had killed for her stood in the center of the room, motionless. Any sign of damage had vanished, but the door to the next chamber opened. Quickly, Bastila moved on, and was not surprised to find the two statues in the next room intact and standing in their original positions… but there were no marks to show where she had cut up the floor to use as a weapon.

_The Power of the Star Forge…_ Bastila thought grimly.

The Star Map activated as she approached, and Bastila pulled out the Holocron…

((()))

"So… we're going after the Sith?" Mission clarified.

"Yes," Kyle answered.

"And you wanted to know if me and Big Z would come along?" Mission clarified.

"Yes."

Mission looked at him like he was stupid, "The Sith took away my home. I'm with you, two hundred percent," she exclaimed.

"Zaalbar?" Kyle asked, looking at the wookiee.

The tall warrior nodded thoughtfully, _((Someone has to keep Mission alive))_

"Hey! You're just the muscle, I'm the brains!" the teen complained.

Carth sat back in the chair, "So… what's the plan?"

Kyle grinned, "We are now independent traders…" he chuckled.

Carth raised his eyebrows.

"Mission, get T3 to help you put together a fake IFF transponder package for the Ebon Hawk. I want something that can stand up to space port scrutiny," Kyle said. The twi'lek nodded, and whistled for T3.

"What about me, sergeant?" Carth asked.

((()))

Juhani opened her eyes when the door to her cell opened. A Jedi Knight that Juhani had seen but never learned the name of stood in the doorway.

"Come with me," he said sharply.

Meekly, the young Cathar obeyed. A bag was thrust into her hands, "Your possessions," he said.

"Master, what is happening?" Juhani asked, but received no reply. Was this it? Were they banishing her from the Order? It hurt more than she thought it would. She had believed in her redeemer, had trusted in the hope that her rescuer had given her… but as she had known, her crimes were too great.

The Knight led her through the quiet corridors of the Enclave, it was still six hours before dawn…

Instead of heading to the vehicle pool, the Knight took the hall that led to the landing bays. Was she so dangerous that they had arranged for her transport?

The Knight opened the door to one of the bays. The sounds of repulsor-lifts and people at work reached her ears. A man jogged over, wearing civilian garb, but Juhani could feel the man's power. It pressed at her like an ocean sweeping against a stone. So great was it, that his proximity felt almost like an attack.

_Who?_

"Is this Juhani?" the man asked.

The Knight nodded, and handed her lightsaber to the man of great power.

"Alright, we'll handle it from here," the great man said. He looked down at her, and smiled slightly, "Good, you've already packed."

He beckoned for her to follow him, and the Knight closed the bay door behind Juhani.

"We're getting the ship ready for departure," he apologized.

Juhani did not understand why this great master was not wearing Jedi robes, and she could not locate his lightsaber. She remained silent, she was a Cathar, after all.

A utility droid trundled up the ramp of the freighter. She recognized it as a _Dynamic_-class freighter. Such had been common on Taris.

"Did they tell you anything?" the man asked, leading her up into the freighter. She could smell the strong musk of a wookiee.

"They told me nothing, master," Juhani said meekly. The man looked at her strangely.

"I'm sorry, I… I assumed…" Juhani apologized, afraid she had offended the man.

"What did you assume?" he asked, curious. She did not sense irritation or annoyance from him.

"I thought you were my new master…" Juhani said, staring at her boots.

"I'm not a Jedi," the man said, puzzled.

"How can you not be? I can feel your power," Juhani said, confused.

"You aren't the first Jedi to say that… am I a Force sensitive?" the man asked.

Juhani nodded quickly, still staring at her boots.

"Huh. Well, Juhani, I'm not your master," the great-man-not-Jedi said firmly.

"Are you here to take me away?" Juhani asked quietly.

"No."

"Then why am I here?" Juhani asked.

"Because Bastila accepted you as her apprentice," the man said.

"Bastila _Shan?_" Juhani demanded.

"Yes," the man chuckled.

This was a dream. It had to be.

Kyle watched the young Cathar bemusedly. She didn't seem like a rabid dark Jedi. But then again, Kyle could look like things he wasn't too. It was part of his training.

"Anyway, I'll show you to your dormitory, alright?" he ushered the girl into the dormitory Mission and Bastila had claimed, showing her to the unclaimed third bunk, demonstrating how it lifted, and the footlocker under it. He clipped her lightsaber to his belt, and shook his head as he left. He'd give the weapon to Bastila, let _her_ figure out how to handle her apprentice.

Zaalbar was in the port cargo bay. Most of the supplies had been secured with cargo netting, and the Wookiee raised the cargo lift. Perched on it were two swoop bikes, and a mandalorian.

"Where'd the bikes come from?" Kyle asked.

"Some dead _dar'manda_," Canderous said, shrugging.

There was a bulky, formless canvas bag strapped to one of the bikes.

"Is that…?" Kyle asked, pointing to it.

"Yeah, most of it. They didn't have _everything_ on your list,"

Ordo handed the heavy bag to Kyle.

"Thank you," Kyle said gratefully.

"That's two favors you owe me," the bigger man grumbled.

((()))

Bastila gazed in wonder at the holocron. It had worked… but the blue glow had turned to a strange green… and inside the translucent crystal, geometric lines had appeared, which constantly shifted from moment to moment… it was beautiful, in its own way. She glanced at it every few seconds on her return to the Ebon Hawk. Bastila was startled by the activity.

Binary load-lifters were transporting heavy cargo canisters up into the Ebon Hawk, and Captain Onasi was directing them.

"What's going on?" she asked the Captain.

"Sergeant Draven. He intends to have us ready to depart by sunrise," Carth grunted. Bastila found the sergeant and Zaalbar in the starboard cargo bay, burning the tariff stamps off the containers with a portable welder.

"What are you doing?" Bastila asked.

"These containers have been through Dantooine customs. I don't want to alert anyone to our point of origin," Kyle explained.

It made sense. The wookiee grumbled something.

"Its _not_ paranoia. Always assume your opponent is smarter than you. You'll live longer," Kyle protested. As she turned to leave Kyle called her name, "By the way, your apprentice is in the female dormitory. Here's her lightsaber."

Bastila took the weapon, and nodded.

"We've also got cover identities, thanks to Mission, they _look_ good, and they passed a random check in the Republic database…" Kyle informed her.

"Anything else?" Bastila asked.

"I suggest our first stop is Tattooine. We'll be able to dead stop any backtraces of our manifest there," Kyle explained.

"What _is_ our cargo?" Bastila asked.

Kyle grinned, "_Water."_

((()))

Juhani jumped to her feet when her master climbed through the hatch.

"Master Shan!" she said, startled, before she hastily bowed.

"You don't have to do that," Bastila said gently. When Juhani looked up, she saw her master was smiling.

"I beg your pardon, master, but… what is going on?" Juhani asked.

"I have been given a mission by the Council… it is dangerous, and we will likely be attacked by the Sith. Will you be able to resist the dark side?" Bastila asked bluntly.

"Wherever you go… I will follow," Juhani whispered fiercely.

Bastila held something out to her, and Juhani recognized her lightsaber.

"I will not fail you," Juhani promised, clipping the weapon to her belt.

((()))

Kyle cast a disparaging glance over his new equipment… as well as the old.

He really should have repaired his armor _before_ following the commander into that hell-hole… but the requisition order was still moving through official channels… Canderous's contacts had only taken a few hours to supply the materials he needed. He began the laborious process of repairing the more advanced components in his helmet. He intended to make the collection of scattered plates and torn bodyglove into something as durable as the original armor specs… if possible. He also painted the plates with a standard dessert camouflage pattern, since they were headed to Tattooine.

"Didn't take you as a vain man," Canderous said from the hatch.

"I'm not. I just prefer my enemies not see me coming from a kilometer away," Kyle replied.

"With Mandalorians, seeing us coming, and being able to do something about it are two completely different things," the big man chuckled.

((()))

Carth did a final check on the ship, and found that all crew were aboard, the cargo was properly secured, Mission had finished swapping out the ship's IFF, and he had already plotted a course for Tattooine.

The _Metron Burner_ rose from the docking bay, rapidly leaving the planet behind, and began its journey…


	9. Chapter 9: Hunted

Carth selected the largest city he could detect, _Anchorhead_, and initiated landing protocols with the dock masters below. He was surprised by how… lax… protocol was.

"We're coming in for a landing, people, don't forget your papers!" Carth said over the intercom.

Kyle adjusted his combat vest, under his disguise, and rapped on the hatch to the women's dormitory.

"Commander? We're ready…"

The hatch opened, and Bastila stepped out, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. The dark brown cloth hid her Jedi robes, and the lightsaber on her back.

"There's a docking official demanding to come aboard… Carth thinks we might need some of your…" Kyle wiggled his fingers suggestively.

"Influencing the minds of others is not something a Jedi does lightly," Bastila said curtly.

"Canderous offered to shoot him," Kyle shrugged.

Bastila sighed, "Very well…"

"Juhani, I'd move your lightsaber to the back of your belt. I can still see it when you move," Kyle suggested.

Silently, the girl did so, and pulled her cloak closed, fiddling with the hood that would hide her features.

"I've had another vision," Bastila said.

"Did it show you where the map was?" Kyle asked.

"I saw a… cave of some kind. It felt cold, but the dark side was strong there. Also, it looked as if some sort of massive creature laired there…"

"We're looking for a cave… with a monster in it…" Kyle sighed. That was less than specific.

"I should be able to sense the dark side emanations as well," Bastila said defensively.

"Alright," Kyle agreed.

Bastila pushed the button to lower the boarding ramp. A man in a Czerka corporation uniform impatiently bustled up the ramp, as if he owned the ship.

"Welcome, welcome to Anchorhead, potential customer, Czerka corporation stands ready to serve… after some formalities," he said irritably.

Canderous didn't like him. He dropped a hand to the blaster on his leg, staring at the man, which shook the man up.

"F-first, your ship is not on the list of planned arrivals. There is a docking fee of one hundred credits, because of this…"

Kyle pulled two fifty chits and flicked them at the man, who clumsily caught the currency.

"A-also, we don't have a manifest for your vessel, which will require a thorough inventory, with a ten percent tariff fee…" the man said smoothly.

Ordo's thumb popped the leather strap off his blaster, but made no other movement.

"Of c-course, I could forget that step, for another hundred credits…" the man squeaked. Canderous slowly looked over at Bastila.

"Pay the man, Ordo. We don't have all day," Bastila sighed.

Canderous growled in the back of his throat, and slapped two more chits into the man's trembling hand… who promptly fled.

"You enjoyed that," Bastila accused.

"Immensely," Ordo agreed.

"He didn't even check your papers," Mission complained. _After all that work…_

((()))

The landing party made their way through the cramped streets of the mining town, which was choked by dust, manure from dozens of forms of life, and creatures from hundreds of alien worlds. Kyle was on the lookout for pick-pockets and muggers… but the latter was discouraged by the presence of a mandalorian… while the former steered clear, due to the presence of a mandalorian…

Kyle pointed across the street at the sunken entrance of a cantina. It looked… dirty, Bastila decided… but then, everything in this wretched town looked dirty.

Bastila, Carth, and Juhani waited with Canderous in one corner of the cantina… many seemed to have come simply to take refuge in the slightly cooler darkness. Carth focused on _not_ sticking to anything.

Kyle found the owner, a man named Junix Nard. Money exchanged hands, and he returned to his companions.

"So?" Bastila asked.

"Calm down Miss _Limoa_," Carth chuckled.

"I have the address of a hunting lodge, where we should be able to hire a guide," Kyle said.

((()))

Mission used the communications terminal to sell the _Metron Burner's_ cargo of water… roughly two thousand liters… to a Hutt named Motta. In trade, he offered twenty crates of something called _Gizka_, which the Hutt listed as a foodstuff, and four thousand credits.

By the time Mission and Motta had finished haggling, she'd squeezed another five hundred credits out of the sour old miser, as well as two crates of generic repair parts for repulsorlift vehicles, a canister of medical grade kolto, and three crates of Corellian Whiskey.

Zaalbar kept a wary eye on the dock workers who arrived, and exchanged the goods… and the dock workers kept a wary eye on his bowcaster.

((()))

Bastila stared at the man incredulously, "You cannot be serious," she said flatly.

"Why not?" he slurred.

"You are barely able to stand. I will not buy you a drink."

"He's still speaking Basic," Kyle said, pushing his own mug to Canderous.

"I'd rather not have a drunk Mandalorian to contend with," Bastila hissed.

"Relax, I'm sober" Canderous mumbled quietly, downing the ale without it even touching his tongue. She touched his awareness, which was still focused and aware… if a bit fuzzy around the edges.

"_Men…_" Bastila sighed. Juhani sat next to her, as far away from Canderous as possible.

Carth returned to the table, with a greasy looking man in tow.

"Limoa, this is Tanis Venn. He's agreed to be our guide," Carth said.

"Whoa, you didn't say nuth'n about mandos," the man said nervously.

"Relax, _areutii… _I'm house trained," Ordo said coldly, playing with his knife idly.

"What you hunting?" Tanis asked, unable to keep his eyes from darting to Ordo's knife.

"We want something really big and scaly that lives in caves," Carth replied.

"No. I ain't hunting no krayt dragons, I don't care _how_ much you're paying," Tanis said, walking away.

"Krayt dragon?" Juhani asked.

"Makes sense…" Carth whispered.

"Such a beast might be drawn to dark side emanations… if so, there's no telling how it might be altered," Bastila mused.

"Forgive me for overhearing, but are you in fact hunting Krayt dragons?" someone asked.

Everyone at the table looked up, even Canderous.

A twi'lek male in his early thirties stood by their table. He had numerous trophies and mementoes sewn into his armored vest, or hanging from thongs of leather. Most of them looked like teeth or claws. He smiled, showing his serrated teeth.

"At the moment," Bastila agreed slowly.

"Good. Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Komad Fortuna. I had arranged to hunt such a beast, but my friend has disappeared. None of the other hunters in this lodge are his equal, and I despaired of finding others who would even consider such a venture," the twi'lek continued.

"I believe there is a _but_ in there somewhere," Carth observed.

"Ah… but there is a difficulty, as you have observed. This particular Krayt dragon has made its lair in the Jundland wastes, a place occupied by a mighty clan of Sand People… they hold no love for aliens… I do not relish facing their gaffi sticks."

"Can you negotiate passage of some sort?" Bastila asked.

"No one can speak their language," the twi'lek laughed, "And they would not listen anyway,"

"No one can speak their language?" Kyle asked, intrigued.

"Well… I heard one of the shop owners boasting that his droid could speak their words… but he is well known for deceit, and exaggeration in his attempts to sell his wares," the twi'lek said reluctantly.

"Where is this merchant?" Kyle asked, testing the tip of his knife.

"His name is Yuka Laka, an Ithorian…"

((()))

The door to the little shop had a motion sensor of some sort, that gave an electronic chime when Bastila entered.

An Ithorian looked up from its work. It had a humped back, awkward legs, and frail arms. Its head folded forward, then rose at a ninety degree angle. Two stalk eyes flanked the top of this head, and along its neck, it had a mouth on either side. They were as a rule, pacifists.

"What is this? A customer I don't recognize? Perhaps you bring off-world money to Yuka Laka?"

It wasn't really speaking Basic. Its normal bass groans and wheezes were drowned out by the vocoder hanging around its thick neck, which translated its speech to Basic.

Before Bastila could open her mouth, the Ithorian rolled on, "You are lucky to have come at this time! I have one droid ready to go, an HK-47!"

Bastila opened her mouth, but the Ithorian continued speaking, "It's a fine protocol translator. It claims to understand the Sand People dialect!"

Bastila held up a hand, halting the Ithorian, "It speaks Sand person?" she demanded.

"Of course, and let me just say that every function I have tested has performed perfectly, and the scent you are wearing is marvelous. May I comment on the beauty of your eyes?"

Bastila frowned, and the alien stopped its attempts to flatter her.

Kyle eased over to the _HK-47_ and peered at the droid. It was bipedal, shaped like a man with rust colored body panels. Its eyes glowed orange, and something about the droid seemed… sinister. As he stared at it, the droid regarded him coolly.

Kyle also saw the heavy duty restraining bolt attached to the droid's chest. Interesting.

"Its mannerisms are amusing and a little eccentric, but its stable," the Ithorian said.

"How much do you want for it?" Bastila asked.

"It's a very solid machine, in good shape. I can't let it go for less than five thousand credits," the Ithorian said firmly.

"Could you lower that price?" Bastila asked.

"Four thousand. Not a credit less," the Ithorian said without missing a beat.

Carth peered at the alien, "That was quick. Desperate to sell?"

"I have tried to sell this droid for many weeks, but few on this planet require a protocol droid," the Ithorian said with an air of long suffering.

"You can't go any lower?" Bastila asked.

"The debt this droid repaid was large. I can go as low as three thousand… but no lower, not without loss of profit," the dealer said.

Kyle returned to Bastila,

"I suggest we buy it. Even if it doesn't speak sand person, it has combat rated durasteel plating, and its servomotors are above military spec. It's a fairly advanced battle droid," Kyle whispered in her ear.

Bastila looked at Yuka Laka, "We'll buy it,"

"You… you will? I mean, of course you will! Let me just withdraw those credits…"

Bastila handed him her datapad, and the transaction cleared after a few minutes.

"You weren't lying," the Ithorian said, surprised. He handed the control unit to the droid's restraining bolt to Kyle.

He walked to the droid, and enabled its vocabulator.

"Statement: I see you have purchased me, master, I find this a satisfactory arrangement. Am I to accompany you now? Shall I kill something for you?" the droid asked.

"It's a battle droid all right," Carth noted.

"Travel with us now, but refrain from killing anything without our permission," Kyle said firmly.

"Statement: I am certain you will make adequate use of my primary functions. My gears are practically _quivering_ with anticipation," the droid said eagerly.

Kyle disabled the restraining bolt, but tucked the control rod in his belt… just in case.

"Query: May I crush the Ithorian's neck, master? It has been a long standing fantasy of mine…"

"Why?" Kyle asked.

"Statement: His incompetent repairs singed and crossed several wires, resulting in a slight reduction of my combat capability,"

Kyle shook his head, "Maybe later,"

"Excited prediction: Do you hear that meatbag? I might be _back_!"

"Hnh. I like him," Canderous observed to no one in particular.

"You do speak Sand Person, right?" Carth asked.

"Statement: Yes master. Though I would prefer simply blasting the vermin…"

((()))

Bastila felt a disturbance in the Force, and glanced at Juhani, who also peered at the surrounding crowd.

Something dark was approaching.

"Into the alley," Bastila hissed.

There were fewer witnesses.

That's when a woman stepped out of a doorway, blocking the alley. Kyle glanced behind them, and saw two men approaching. All three drew lightsabers from under their tunics.

_Red _lightsabers.

"_Dar'jettai_…" Canderous observed, powering up _ord'ika_. He also flicked the safety off his dart shooter, which was loaded with several poison darts.

"I can sense your power, mercenary… come, join us…"

Kyle cocked his head at the woman. He could feel a pressure in his head, much like the whispers in the Dantooine tomb. He took a step towards the woman, who held out her hand, and he reached out to take it, focusing on an imminent arm-lock, to ignore the voice in his head.

Bastila glanced at the female Sith. She was powerful and skilled. Bastila had not been able to sense her presence in the alley… and she had ensnared Kyle so deftly that—

The woman recoiled, clutching at her throat, as if being choked—

_No. Not Revan._ Bastila's heart froze… until she saw the dart in the Sith's fist.

Bastila's gaze snapped back to the two men who had broken into a run.

Bastila leapt over the group, and landed in front of the two Sith warriors, her lightsaber a blur as she caught both blades and halted her adversaries. A blue blade stabbed over her blade at one Sith, who hastily retreated.

Kyle shoved Carth into a doorway, and blocked him with his armored body.

Canderous had problems of his own. The poison dart had slowed the woman, but it had also pissed her off… and the sluggishness was wearing off quickly.

Ordo wrestled with the smaller Sith, and despite his greater mass, she was using the Force to augment her strength.

The red lightsaber skittered across his helmet, vaporizing paint, but unable to harm the _beskar._ Ordo pinned her weapon hand with his knee, and managed to graze her cheek with his knife. As long as he could keep her off balance, prevent her from focusing, he would survive. The Sith Force-shoved him off, and reversed their positions, trying to decapitate him. Ordo grabbed her wrist, and caught the lightsaber blade on his gauntlet, straining against his enemy's unnatural strength.

_"Copaani gaan?"_

"Yes!" Ordo shouted. The Sith's head snapped up and she threw herself to the side, barely avoiding the hail of blaster bolts.

Canderous used the breathing room to activate the flamethrower on his right gauntlet, and sprayed fire at the Sith.

"Esiv!" one of the male Sith shouted, and a shield of sand snapped up from the ground, diverting the flames.

"_Ossik,_" Ordo snarled, cutting off the fire.

"Query: Master, may I kill these meatbags?"

"Yes!" Bastila exclaimed, ducking under a ruby blade. The droid, which had been standing meekly to one side darted forward, and shoved its fist through the skull of a male Sith. The other male turned to cut the droid down, but Juhani somersaulted over him, claiming the young man's head.

"Quarl!" the female Sith screamed, clutching her head. Ordo didn't hesitate, he tackled the vulnerable enemy, and slit her throat. He pinned her to his chest for the minute it took her to die. Only when the blood stopped spurting from her arteries did he slacken his grip.

You couldn't mess around with _jettai, or dar'jettai_. If you didn't kill them quick, they'd tear your entire squad apart… but damn… he hated killing women.

"Anyone hurt?" Kyle asked.

"I think my spleen was crushed," Carth offered, glaring at the commando.

"You're welcome," Kyle replied.

Ordo took the woman's lightsaber, and clipped it to his belt. _Mando'ade_ took trophies.

He gently closed her frightened eyes, and began searching her pockets.

He could hear the others doing likewise.

"I've got a datapad…" Carth said. He tabbed through it…

"It looks like they're just a standard Jedi hunter team. Malak's got them all over…" the captain summarized.

"Take anything that identifies them," Kyle said grimly, pocketing a lightsaber. Juhani picked up the lightsaber from the man she'd killed, deactivated it, and handed the weapon to Bastila.

Five minutes later, three corpses lay in an alley. No one cared who they were, or why they'd died… and three Dark Jedi simply… disappeared.

((()))

"Captain, I want you to remain with the ship," Bastila said, while Kyle and Zaalbar unloaded the swoop bikes from the cargo hold.

"What? Why?" the soldier demanded.

"If we are discovered… I may need you to retrieve us in the Hawk… and you're our best pilot," Bastila said.

Carth crossed his arms, and raised his eyebrow.

"Also… Mission is planning to do something, I don't know what, but she has been secretive, furtive, and I have little experience with the minds of Twi'leks," Bastila admitted.

"Do you always spy on the crew?" Carth asked.

"No… but I'm worried about her. She just lost her home…" Bastila said.

Carth nodded, his expression softening, "I'll keep an eye on her," he promised.

((()))

Komad looked up as a group approached him.

"Ah, you have arrived," he said.

"Sorry, but we had to retrieve our swoop bikes," the softer spoken mercenary said, now wearing what appeared to be… appropriated Republic Trooper armor. Komad noted the gray metal showing on the mandalorian's helmet, and the lightsaber now clipped to his belt. A tale for another time.

"Then, we are off," Komad said, throwing a leg over his swoop, and lowered his goggles to protect his eyes.

"No. I'm not flying with that thing," the human woman said firmly, pointing to the rust colored droid.

"Why?" the mandalorian asked.

"He killed that Sith with his bare hands," the woman hissed, but Komad's ears were sharp, and he heard the exchange.

So… these hunters had tangled with Sith… and still breathed. Perhaps there was hope for this expedition after all...

"I'll take him," Komad offered.

"Guess that means I'm with you, _ner vod,_" the mandalorian chuckled to the mercenary in trooper armor.

The women had already mounted their swoop, and had goggles in place, waiting on the men.

"Are we arranged properly?" Komad asked pointedly. When the others nodded, he kicked the engine of his swoop to life, and their journey across the desert began.

They stopped when night fell.

"Shouldn't we keep going? It will be cooler at night," the great-man asked.

The hunter-Komad shook his head, "It is dangerous to travel by night. Sand people are difficult to spot in the daylight, but impossible in the dark. We would be ambushed easily."

As the darkness deepened, Juhani thought she heard something, on the edge of perception.

"Young Cathar, does something trouble you?" Hunter-Komad asked.

"I thought… I thought I heard something…" Juhani shrugged.

"Query: Master, are you referring to the distant distress cries of a male meatbag?" the rusty droid asked, turning to look at her.

"What?" _Kyle_ asked.

"Clarification: my audio-receptors detected the call of a male meatbag in distress after the repulsorlifts were deactivated, removing extraneous noise," the droid shrugged… greatly disturbing Bastila.

"Why didn't you inform us of this?" Bastila demanded.

"Surprised Answer: I did not think the plight of a pathetic meatbag worthy of bringing to your attention, master."

"Kyle, and you, droid, come with me. The rest of you, remain with Komad," Bastila ordered.

"This is ill-advised," the twi'lek warned.

"Can you pinpoint the location of the meat— of the man?" Bastila said, accidentally using the droid's term.

"Confident statement: Yes master, with a point zero three percent margin of error."

"Which direction?" Kyle asked. The droid pointed off to the east, parallel to the course they'd taken. The commando mounted one of the swoops, and beckoned to the droid. Bastila took a second swoop.

Komad loosened the blaster in his holster. No doubt the Sand People were watching them. Now that half of their group had left…

"I believe the Sand People will likely attack us, before the sun rises," Komad remarked.

"Good," the mandalorian grunted, stroking his heavy weapon, as if it were a kath hound.

((()))

"Hey Mission," Carth said, setting down his datapad. The girl was hunched over a terminal in the communications blister, "What?!" Mission yelped, closing down her station. "So… why do you hate Lena so much?" Carth asked, sitting down at a nearby terminal, watching her. She'd been doing _something_ she didn't want him to see.

Mission stared at the wall stonily, "My brother and me had a good thing going. Sure, Griff had his run-ins with the law on Taris. But we got by okay. Until Lena came and _ruined everything_. She was a dancer at the cantina where my brother used to go to play Pazaak. Griff could be a real smooth talker, and it wasn't long before the two of them were dating. But Lena was used to dating rich Tarisian nobles - guys with mountains of credits. Griff could never give her the kind of lifestyle she was used to, no matter how hard he worked!"

Carth raised an eyebrow, and Mission relented, "Alright, no matter how much he stole… I'm not going to pretend Griff wasn't a hustler and a con-artist, but he did it to look out for me!"

Carth nodded, waiting for Mission to continue.

"I thought Lena would brush Griff off when she saw how poor he was, but for some reason she stuck around. I guess she saw the potential for a big payday down the road," Mission sneered.

"Could she have genuinely liked Griff?" Carth asked.

"I saw Lena for what she really was," Mission scoffed, "a busty, credit-grubbing cantina rat! She used Griff and took away the only family I had! After they'd been together for a few months, Griff told me he was leaving Taris. He and Lena were going to try and make their fortune off-world. He promised as soon as he made enough credits he'd come back and get me and we'd all live like royalty. That was two years ago - I haven't seen him since! I don't even know where he went!"

It sounded like the big brother had found a pretty girl, and didn't want to take care of his little sister anymore, Carth thought darkly.

"Could something have happened to Griff?" he asked.

"Oh, I know what happened! As soon as she got him off Taris Lena sunk her claws into Griff good! She twisted him around her little finger and made him forget all about me!" Mission said angrily, spinning to look at her terminal again.

"Mission, what were you doing on the communications terminal when I walked in?" Carth asked carefully.

For a long moment, he thought she wasn't going to answer him.

"I know I'll probably never see Griff again. But the reason I came with you was the hope that I could find out what happened to my brother…" Mission whispered.

"What were you doing?" Carth repeated, calmly.

Mission activated the terminal, so that Carth could see.

It took him a moment to realize what he was looking at.

"Passenger manifests," he realized.

"Yeah, I was cross referencing them with the ship's computer, for Lena or any of Griff's aliases…" Mission explained.

"How did you get these? They look confidential," Carth said.

"I, uh… well, T3 helped me slice the spaceport mainframe…" Mission admitted.

"Can it be traced back to us?" Carth asked, worried.

"Relax. I downloaded it to a datapad and bounced the signal off almost a hundred different terminals, this isn't live feed," Mission reassured him.

"Did you find anything?" Carth asked.

"Not yet…" Mission sighed, "most of the files have individual encryption keys."

((()))

The progress of the rescue party was slowed by the necessity of deactivating the swoops to allow the combat droid to home in on the man's cries.

After an hour though, apparently they were close enough for the droid to pick the cries out, even with the swoops running.

The riders crested a dune, and Kyle saw less than fifty meters away a man, lying on the sand (thanks to his helmet's IR filter). Forming a box around him were four hovering Seeker droids (they resembled spheres the size of a man's head, but sported a heavy blaster, and were excellent trackers)

"Thank whatever god sent you to me," the man said hoarsely.

"Commander, this may be a trap. Let me go first," Kyle requested, whispering.

"I have faster reaction times," Bastila argued,

"But you can't defuse explosives," Kyle pointed out.

"Send the droid," Bastila suggested.

"We need him to talk to the Sand People," Kyle argued.

Bastila bit her lip.

"Sometimes, you just have to trust your men," Kyle said softly.

The Knight glanced back at the man and nodded tensely, "Do it."

Kyle slid off the swoop, and cautiously approached the man.

"What's the problem?" Kyle asked carefully.

"Got any water?" the man coughed.

Kyle pulled the canteen off his belt and strong armed it, so that it landed almost on the man's chest.

The man gulped down three mouthfuls of water before visibly forcing himself to stop, and lower the canteen.

"I been stuck here for hours without water… wasn't looking good…" the man wheezed.

"You hurt?" Kyle asked.

"Just my pride…" the man sighed.

"Be specific, or I'm leaving," Kyle said firmly.

"My wife. She fixed my droids good… if I move from this spot, they'll explode. I might survive one of the bastards, but not all four at once."

"Proximity detection, trip line, or motion sensor?" Kyle asked.

"A dewback wandered by a few hours ago, almost touched one of the Seekers, but didn't set them off. I move a meter, and they start whining and vibrating…" the man answered.

"What's their targeting system?" Kyle asked.

"I think it's a basic motion sensor paired with a thermal recognition matrix," the man said.

"Okay…" Kyle said, reaching into a pouch on the back of his belt for his demolition tools.

"Suggestion: Master, a sonic resonance would cause the Seeker drones to spontaneously explode, safely disposing of the meatbag…"

Kyle ignored the bloodthirsty droid, and approached the closest Seeker. Carefully, he removed the access panel from the back of the droid, checking for trips or snares first.

The droid ignored him.

Kyle peered at the circuitry. It took him a few minutes to locate the primary motivator, micro-repulsorlift engine, central processor, and power supply.

"Ah…" Kyle said.

"What? It bad?" the man asked.

"The targeting matrix has been spliced into the motivator and primary power source… this'll only take a moment…" Kyle promised. He isolated all leads to the power supply, and quickly disconnected them. The droid fell to his feet, dead.

"What'd you do?" the man demanded.

"I disconnected its power supply."

"Be careful, I put a lot of money into these Seekers!" the man protested.

Kyle ignored him, quickly disabling the other three Seeker droids as well.

"How'd you get out here?" Kyle asked.

"I've got a speeder… when I left camp to track some desert Wraids, well, I guess that triggered the kink…"

"HK, can you pilot a swoop bike?" Kyle asked.

"Hesitant affirmation: I believe so, Master. I have been observing your movements."

Kyle approached the man, who apparently couldn't really see him.

"Which way to your vehicle?" Kyle asked.

"Not without my droids," the man said firmly.

"We'll pick them up on the way back," Kyle said coldly.

((()))

"Uh… Carth?" a voice whispered in the dark, and prodded the sleeping man's shoulder.

"Gah!" the man yelped, flailing at his attacker.

"Sheesh! Calm down! It's just me!" Mission complained, backing off.

"Mission?!" Carth asked, "What is it?"

"Uh… I didn't find Griff… but I did find Lena…" Mission said.

"Oh… right," Carth said, his sleep addled brain finally coming up to speed.

"She's in the slave quarter, and I… well, I kinda wanted to know if you'd come with me," Mission admitted.

"Sure, just let me find my pants," Carth said.

"I'll be outside," Mission agreed, and quickly scooted out of the room.

((()))

Carth buckled on his gunbelt, and adjusted the combat vest under his jacket. He found Mission waiting at the boarding ramp, with Zaalbar hovering behind her. T3 whistled at them nervously.

"Lock the ramp behind us, and if anyone gets onboard, roast them," Mission was telling the droid. T3 popped out its blaster attachment and flamethrower a little _too _eagerly.

"Unless it's us," Carth hastily amended.

"Yeah, except for us," Mission repeated.

((()))

It was the middle of the night, and the unbearable heat of the day hadn't stuck around. Carth was glad for his jacket now.

Anchorhead was also _dark_. Among the three, he was the only one without superb night vision, and he didn't have his IR goggles.

"Just let me know which direction to shoot," Carth joked nervously, as he held onto Zaalbar's weapon harness with his left hand.

"Relax. No one's going to mess with a wookiee," Mission reassured him.

((()))

Juhani sat second watch, her hood thrown back, as she monitored the surrounding terrain, supplementing her natural Cathar senses with Jedi abilities. It gave her some time to reflect on the day… and her mistakes during the battle with the Sith.

She heard the whine of repulsorlifts from nearly twenty kilometers away. Five minutes later, two swoops and an old land speeder slowed to a halt.

"Any sign of activity?" Master Shan asked, dismounting her bike.

"It has been quiet," Juhani answered.

"We are well within Sand Person territory… there should have been at least a _tentative_ raid against us," Komad said, worried.

"HK, see what you can do about repairing the Seekers. We can use them as sentries," Kyle said, helping a man out of the speeder.

"Those are my property!" the man protested.

"You're welcome," Kyle said.

"For what?" the man demanded.

"Saving your life, repairing your droids," Kyle said coldly.

"Ah, Tannis!" Komad said, "I just remembered, earlier this morning I saw your wife, Marlena. She asked me to tell you "_hi_." I assume it means something to you."

The hunter grumbled something under his breath.

((()))

The streets of the slave quarter were darker, if possible, than the ones around the spaceport.

"Here, this is it," Mission whispered, halting next to a tiny sandbrick dwelling.

She reached out to rap on the plasteel door, but hesitated. Zaalbar whuffed at her, and she nodded, angrily banging on the door.

It sounded deafening in the quiet hours of the morning, and Carth nervously dropped a hand to the blaster on his thigh.

The door reluctantly opened a centimeter.

"What do you want?" a tired voice asked.

"Lena?" Mission asked.

"Who wants to know?" the female voice challenged, wary.

"Where's Griff? Where's my brother?" Mission demanded.

"Wait… Mission?" the door opened fully, revealing a painfully skinny twi'lek woman, wearing the rough clothing of a slave.

"Is that you?" Lena breathed.

She didn't look evil, Mission thought, but then again, that was what made Lena so dangerous.

"Where's Griff?" Mission asked, trying to look past Lena into the small chamber.

"Griff and I… broke up… several months after we left Taris," Lena said darkly, "your brother can be charming, Mission, but he's bad news."

"Don't you start trashing my brother, you cantina rat!" Mission snarled, lunging at the startled woman.

Fortunately, Zaalbar was faster, and locked an arm around her waist.

"Take that back or I'll smack you so hard your head-tails will pop off!" Mission grunted impotently, restrained by Zaalbar.

"Mission, what's wrong with you? Why are you acting this way?" Lena asked, looking pained.

"You took my brother away and left me all alone on Taris!" Mission said, tears of rage leaking from the corners of her eyes.

"I'm sorry, miss, Mission gets a little worked up when it comes to her brother," Carth apologized.

"You've got that backwards. Mission you could have come with us if you wanted to! It was your choice to stay behind!" Lena said sharply.

"_You liar!_ Griff told me you didn't want his little sister tagging along - that's why he had to leave me behind!" Mission shouted, lunging futilely against her friend's steel-like arm.

"Is that what the Hutt-spawn told you? I _wanted_ you to come with us, Mission. I even offered to pay for your ticket! Why not? I paid for everything else while I was with that _freeloader,_" Lena said, outraged.

Carth was beginning to think there was more to this story…

"—but he told me you didn't want to leave Taris. I said we shouldn't even go then, but he said we'd come back and get you after we struck it rich on Tatooine - just another one of his lies!" Lena spat.

"_No!_ - you're the one who's lying! Griff wouldn't... he wouldn't try to leave me behind!" Mission said, but she didn't sound so confident.

Lena crouched in front of Mission, "Think about it. If Griff wasn't trying to ditch you, Mission, then why didn't he tell you where we were going?" she said gently.

Tears continued to drip from Mission's eyes, but the rage was gone.

"After we left Taris he told me looking after you was holding him back - Griff's always looking to blame other people for his own problems. That's why he abandoned you," Lena said sadly, "He did the same thing to me, too, as soon as I ran out of money. Like it's my fault his get-rich-quick schemes never work out!"

"Don't talk about him like that!" Mission snarled.

"He sold me to a _hutt_ to save his own ass!" Lena snarled, shaking the signal device clamped to her wrist in Mission's face.

"No… Griff wouldn't…" Mission said quietly.

"Griff is a selfish bastard who only cares about himself, Mission," Lena said, just a tired woman standing in the cold once more.

"Where is my brother?" Mission repeated, dazed.

"Last I heard before the slug's goons dragged me off, your brother was going to make a _fortune_ working the Czerka Corp mines. But as far as I'm concerned, he is _out_ of my life," Lena said bitterly.

"Griff's better off without you anyway, you table-dancing, brother-stealing home wrecker!" Mission snapped, "Let's go."

"I didn't want to upset you, Mission. But one day you'll see I'm right about your brother. I only hope it's not too late by then," Lena said, closing the door to her cell behind her.

"Nothing but _lies_!" Mission said, frustrated.

"Mission… maybe your brother isn't who you thought he was…" Carth said cautiously.

"Don't tell me you believe Lena's lies? Griff might be working as a miner on Tatooine, but the rest of her story is bantha poo-doo! You can't trust someone like her," Mission snapped.

"So… what do you want to do?" Carth asked.

"I'd like to go speak to the Czerka Corp rep on Tatooine. Maybe I can arrange to see my brother again, or pick up his trail," Mission sighed.

"We'll find your brother," Carth promised.

"I just hope he's not in any kind of trouble when we do," Mission said darkly.

((()))

In the morning, counter to Komad's dire prediction, the Sand People still had not shown themselves. Tanis departed in his speeder, headed for Anchorhead, his precious Seeker droids loaded in the freight bed.

Bastila wasn't sorry to see him go. She'd seen in his mind why Marlena had tried to kill him. To betray another so deeply… he disgusted her.

At midday, they found the sandcrawler.

Cautiously, the party slowed their approach.

Kyle and Canderous used the macrobinoculars in their helmets to survey the damage.

"I don't see anything consistent with energy weapon damage," Kyle observed.

"Agreed… and explosives didn't cause the damage either, no blast residue or scoring…" Canderous said, puzzled.

It looked like something had physically attacked the Sandcrawler, ripping off treads and peeling back armored plates, to attack the innards… knocking it onto its side.

Komad spurred his swoop forward, leaving the group behind, staring at the sand. Wind had erased any tracks he might have found… but in a discarded tread he found a clue.

A shard of bone nearly twenty centimeters long was jammed in the heavy metal links… He ran his fingers over it, as the others approached.

"This is part of a _Krayt Dragon_ tooth," Komad said grimly.

"Do dragons frequently attack sandcrawlers?" the human woman asked him.

"No… I don't think this has ever happened before…" Komad said, uneasy.

"Maybe this is why no Sand People have attacked us, they've run off," the trooper suggested.

"No… they would stay, to slay the beast… it will simply follow their bantha herds in any event," Komad replied.

"Should we search for survivors?" the trooper asked.

"You may… but I doubt any will be found," Komad said.

The human woman frowned, and gestured to her companions. They climbed into the massive vehicle via a breach in its hull.

Out of the hunter's sight, Bastila closed her eyes, and reached out with her senses.

Kyle waited patiently, flicking over to IR vision.

"There is a life form… very weak… I can't pinpoint exactly where…" Bastila said, frustrated.

"Sentient?" Kyle asked.

"I believe so, but it's not human… so I'm unsure," Bastila confirmed.

"Split up," Bastila whispered, beckoning to Juhani to follow her.

"We'll take the droid," Canderous volunteered.

((()))

Juhani led the way, pausing to listen and scent the air occasionally. The first sign of the crew they found was a human man's arm, still clutching at the grated floor.

There was surprisingly little blood, and it had dried already, blending in with the brown paint. There was a massive rent in the wall, which was apparently how the dragon had caught the miner.

_Caught_? Bastila thought to herself, _No, this poor man was devoured_.

She could also feel a faint, lingering aura of the darkside.

Canderous banged his head on an awkward pipe, and cursed vehemently.

"Language, _ner vod_. There are children present," Draven chuckled.

"I doubt she understands rodian," Canderous grumbled.

"She'll learn quickly," Kyle promised, holding several sparking energy cables out of Ordo's way.

They reached a door in the "floor" that had been jammed by debris… it was a store room of some kind… but it looked intact.

"Could be a survivor," Kyle shrugged.

"Let me get out my universal key," Ordo said, a ruby blade flaring to life.

"You getting anything?" Kyle asked the combat droid.

"Repetitive reply: _No master_."

The big mandalorian ducked under an open door, since he was technically walking on a wall. Sand and grit trickled onto him, and the mandalorian froze, looking up. He saw luminous eyes watching him in the dark.

"I found the rat."

((()))

The mandalorian had a fistful of the cowering creature's ratty hood… and it stank.

Komad inspected the diminutive Jawa as the other members of the hunting party climbed out of the sandcrawler. It was also babbling non stop, clearly terrified.

"HK, what's he saying?" the woman asked.

"Translation: Ninety-eight percent probability that members of the miniature organics crew were devoured by a demon Krayt Dragon, master. Doubtless he wishes assistance."

"And the other two percent?" the trooper asked.

"Answer: Two percent probability that the miniature organic is simply looking for trouble and needs to be blasted. That may be wishful thinking on my part, master," the droid openly admitted.

"Ask him what happened," the woman ordered.

The droid jabbered at the Jawa, and then listened to the reply,

"Translation: the miniature meatbag is called Iziz. Several of his clan mates were serving aboard this transport, alongside Czerka corporation miners. He claims that a demon attacked the crawler, and hunted the pathetic meatbags hiding inside. Apparently it wandered off after eating its fill, or growing bored with its intriguing game."

"Which way did it go?" the woman asked.

HK consulted with the Jawa, then shook his head, "Apology: Master, the miniature meatbag does not know. He hid in the waste processing center, and did not come out until the Mandalorian extracted him by his ankles."

"That accounts for the smell," the Cathar muttered.

"There are few caves in the area large enough for a full grown Krayt to lair in," Komad revealed.

"And you know where they are…" The trooper said.

"Of course," Komad smiled, revealing his carnivorous teeth.

The Jawa squealed, and thrashed in Canderous's grip, trying desperately to escape.

"What's wrong?" Bastila demanded.

"Answer: The miniature meatbag wishes to hide, master. He does not wish to find the Krayt Dragon."

"Let him go," Bastila told Ordo, who shrugged, and released his hold. In less than four seconds, the small alien had vanished back into the wrecked sandcrawler.

"He stank anyway," Ordo said, examining his now stained glove.

"Let's get moving," Bastila sighed.

((()))

"I thought you said you wanted to _talk_ to Czerka," Carth said.

"_I am_… sort of," Mission said, splicing her datapad into one of the communications hubs outside the Czerka headquarters.

"I'll be right back," Carth sighed.

"What are you doing?" the teenager hissed as the captain walked into the building.

Carth nodded to the receptionist at the front desk of the dreary little building.

"Hello, ma'am," he said politely.

"How can I assist you today?" the woman asked, clearly bored out of her skull.

"I'm looking for a friend of mine. A twi'lek male, named Griff. He probably arrived… oh, in the last two years," Carth said amiably.

"I'm not permitted to give out that kind of information," the woman said, uncomfortable.

"I know, miss. I'm not trying to hurt him, I think something may have happened to him. Please, any information you could give me might make a difference," Carth said, keeping his expression open, friendly, and bone tired. The last one was easy to do.

The young woman looked at him, uncertain, "Well…"

"I know I'm asking you to take a risk. Here's two hundred credits, just in case… and if anyone finds out, just tell them I had a grenade in my pocket… something like that," Carth said calmly.

"Do you?" the woman asked, nervous.

"Sure," Carth said, giving her a slow wink.

"Alright…" the woman said slowly, and turned to the terminal.

After several minutes combing through the records, she shook her head, "There's no employee matching your description."

"How about Marliff?" a voice asked, startling the woman. She looked up, and saw a twi'lek girl standing next to the clean shaven man.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Griff's my brother," Mission shrugged.

"Oh," the woman actually relaxed slightly, then glanced at the human, "So what's your stake in this?"

"He's a family friend. Kind of like an annoying uncle," Mission confided.

"Really?" the secretary asked.

A result flashed from the screen, "Yes… there is a Marliff… twi'lek male, blue skinned…" the secretary said, tabbing down on the dossier, until the picture came into view.

"Yeah, that's Griff," the girl confirmed.

"So he was employed under false pretenses?" the secretary asked.

"What's it say?" Mission asked, unable to read the transparent words backwards.

"He was employed twenty months ago as a miner… he was cited for multiple infractions by his crew chief… specifically falsifying his time sheets, faking injuries to get out of work… as well as sleeping during his shift… he was suspected of stealing Czerka supplies, although the investigation could never prove anything."

"That sounds like Griff," the twi'lek sighed.

"Wait… he was scheduled to be fired… nine months ago, but Sand People attacked his mining crew. There were no reported survivors, but not all of the bodies were recovered."

"He's dead?" Mission asked, stunned. The woman shrugged helplessly, "It doesn't say. He's _presumed_ dead, but that's all the information we have. I'm sorry."

"Thank you miss…" the man said heavily, "Come on Mission, we'll keep looking."

"He can't be dead…" the girl mumbled.

((()))

"Well, we found the dragon…" Kyle said, stunned.

"And the Sand People," Bastila agreed.

Below them, three dozen of the violent warriors were desperately trying to drive off a creature… whose size seemed to defy the mind. Some warriors towards the back had crude bolt-action projectile rifles, which seemed to do little more than irritate the massive beast. Alien warriors died, crushed in jaws, or beneath massive claws, still smashing at the monster with their _gaffi _sticks… and everyone on the ridge could see why.

Less than a quarter kilometer away, a hastily erected Sand Person camp lay, swarming with banthas, and Sand People Kyle assumed to be females and children.

"Komad, how do dragons like fire?" the mandalorian asked.

"The inside of their jaws and eyes are vulnerable…" Komad said.

"If we help them drive off the dragon, they might give as a chance to talk…" Juhani suggested.

"Possible…" Komad allowed.

"Do it," Bastila said. She could _feel_ the darkside from here.

"Race you to the bottom," the trooper challenged the women.

"You going to stand for that, _areutii?_" Canderous asked Bastila.

"Yah!" Kyle shouted, kicking his swoop forward, off into mid air. The repulsorlift engine strained, unable to repel from anything during the sixty meter plunge, but it kicked in ten meters from the ground, slowing their fall.

Kyle killed the engine and Canderous vaulted off, sprinting across the sand, arming his flamethrower.

The Sand People's strange honking shrieks filled Kyle's ears. Kyle began to appreciate just how_ big_ the dragon was. Forty-five meters long just didn't do it justice. It was easily twice the length of the Ebon Hawk…

Ordo raised his arm, and depressed the stud, spewing a stream of fire up at the dragon's jaws. The burning fuel clung to the dragon's snout, and it roared in pain. The mandalorian feathered the firing stud, conserving his fuel. One Sand Person managed to stab a gaffi stick into the join of claw and toe, sawing savagely.

Kyle saw that HK had appropriated a projectile rifle from a dead Sand Person, and was calmly firing with chilling accuracy.

Apparently, the dragon didn't deem the effort needed to kill them worth the trouble, and slowly turned, sweeping its forked tail behind it, scattering any warriors foolish enough to pursue.

In the sudden lull the two sides drew apart, eying the other.

One Sand Person, his gaffi staff made of dull metal, howled at them accusingly.

"Interjection: One moment… I believe I understood that, master. It may not have been his _intention_, but he did actually _communicate_ something," the droid said.

"Quickly, tell him we aren't a threat!" Bastila snapped.

HK nodded, and howled back at the Sand Person, including several rhythmic motions of his hands.

The Sand Person took a step back, startled.

"Result: I believe I have succeeded in confusing him, master. We have shown an interest not common among outsiders," the droid said with satisfaction.

"Apologize for being here, say we want peace," Bastila instructed.

The droid did as she asked, and the Sand Person cocked his head, staring at them, and its reply was much slower, more… cautious, and less hostile.

"Translation: he is expressing disbelief, as am _I_, but his duty requires he report to his chieftain. Extrapolation: It would seem we are at least worthy of curiosity, for the moment. I would much rather this get bloody master, but this is your call," the droid said glumly.

The Sand Person in charge turned, and barked something to another warrior, who took off at a run for the encampment in the distance.

"Everyone remain calm," Bastila murmured.

The two sides continued to stare at each other for several minutes.

A Sand Person wearing more ornate robes and leather harness than the others returned with the spokesman. His gaffi stick was constructed of shiny durasteel.

Bastila assumed this was the chieftain, who snarled angrily at them.

"Translation: he is demanding to know why he should let us survive this encounter, master."

"Tell him we hunt the Krayt Dragon."

"Translation: He claims he has no reason to believe you, master. Your kind has tainted this land with machines and uncaring ignorant feet. He requires proof of good faith. Shall I blast him now, master?" the droid asked.

"No," Bastila snapped.

"Give him a lightsaber," Kyle suggested, gesturing to her belt.

Bastila stepped forward from the group, towards the chieftain. The Sand People raised their weapons threateningly. She reached out through the Force, touching their minds, and thought _calm_.

Then she took the lightsaber that hung from her belt, and carefully drew it, displaying the hilt to the Sand People. She stepped forward again, and held it out to the Chieftain. After a moment's hesitation, the warrior snatched the weapon from her hands, inspecting it. He held up the weapon, and activated the lightsaber, inspecting the beam, before deactivating and clipping it to his belt… next to a _second_ lightsaber. _How?_

But the Sand Person chieftain was speaking.

"Translation: He does not trust you master… but you have done more than any other outsider. He will not kill you."

"Ask him about the Krayt Dragon," Bastila said.

HK relayed her question, and the chieftain's answer.

"Translation: His people believe Krayt Dragons to be powerful spirits of the desert, but this creature is a demon. His best trackers have located the beast's lair… but he will not send any of his people into… one moment master, I must clarify…"

The droid spoke with the chieftain at length for several minutes.

"Clarification: the demon dwells in a place of monsters, where the desert does not speak. It is an un-place. Through the generations, many monsters have been birthed by this un-place."

Bastila nodded, "Tell him we will resume our hunt."

The chieftain turned his back on them, and began to walk back towards the encampment.

The other Sand People reluctantly ignored them, retrieving the weapons and bodies of their fallen comrades, dragging the later towards the encampment.

"We should get moving, before they change their mind," Kyle suggested.

((()))

Mission sat at the terminal, and felt hope. A passenger aboard an outbound transport, named S'ven Aliran had been registered seven months ago. She pulled up an image of his passport, and saw her brother's face. He looked haggard, and malnourished, but it was definitely him. She pulled up the destination of the transport… _Kashyyyk_.

"Carth, my brother… he's alive," Mission called.

The captain entered the communications blister, and stood at her shoulder, "That's great, Mission. Kashyyyk might be our next stop."

"I've been thinking about Lena and what she said about Griff. You know, how he was always blaming other people for his problems. There might be something to what she said," Mission said slowly.

"You mean you believe her story now?" Carth asked.

"No, of course not. Not really. But what if... what if it was his idea to leave me behind? I'm not saying Griff would just abandon me. But maybe... maybe he did want to leave me behind. Just temporarily, you know? He might have done that, if he planned on coming back later. But things didn't usually work out for Griff the way he planned, you know? And that's when he'd get in trouble. He was always borrowing money he could never pay back. He might have been trying to skip out on his debts when he left Taris. He would have had to leave his little sister behind so it would look like he was coming back," Mission said, slowly stringing together a list of semi-plausible explanations for Griff's behavior, when a much simpler one existed… but Carth didn't say anything.

"That sounds like how you arrived at Taris in the first place," Carth observed neutrally.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is that the more I think back the more I realize I might be idolizing my brother a bit. Not seeing all his faults. I still want to find him. I need to see him again. It's just that I'm not sure how I'll react when I do," Mission admitted.

"When the time comes you'll know what to say, Mission," Carth assured her… _which would probably consist of an eloquently swift kick in the groin. _

"Maybe. We'll see. I don't... I don't want to judge him yet. Maybe Lena was lying. Or maybe... maybe she wasn't," Mission said, frustrated.

Carth squeezed her shoulder briefly, before he left her to it.

((()))

Bastila reached out with the Force… she could _feel_ the darkside emanating from the cave. Juhani shivered, looking to her master for guidance.

"I feel cold…" Kyle looked at Bastila, "Darkside?" he asked.

She nodded slowly.

"Well, at least we're at the right place…" Canderous pointed out.

"I'll need at least ten minutes to download the Star Map," Bastila said, pulling out the holocron from her belt pouch.

"The cave is too confined to risk confronting the dragon," Komad advised, as he began to assemble a Republic military surplus missile launcher.

"We need to lure him out into the open," Kyle said.

"Two men can take position over the cave mouth, and fire down on the dragon as it emerges," Komad suggested, pointing to a narrow lip of rock.

"Kyle, Komad, place us as you will," Bastila whispered. Kyle nodded.

"Canderous, take that position," Kyle whispered, pointing to the cave overhang. The man nodded, and started out across the sand.

"Komad, I assume you intend to use that?" Kyle asked.

"I do indeed. It would be a shame after carrying it for so long, for _just_ this purpose…" the hunter said.

Kyle recognized the eleven centimeter long missiles: anti-vehicle flechete rounds… capable of punching through five centimeters of armored durasteel plating.

"Suggestion: I could imitate the call of a bantha, master," HK-47 offered.

"Agreed. You two wait there," Kyle pointed to the Jedi, and a sheltered position near the cave mouth.

"Once we draw the bastard out, get in there, and get out," Kyle said sternly.

"We will," Bastila promised.

"I'll keep Komad covered," Kyle finished, pulling the blaster rifle off his back.

The team scrambled for their positions, and Kyle signaled HK when they were ready. The droid nodded, and walked to the cave mouth, and a long, bellowing noise issued from him, echoing down the cave…

And they waited.

The minutes dragged by, and the droid repeated his call several times… but there was no response. Kyle isolated Bastila's comlink on his helmet line, "Bastila, is it in there?"

"The darkside emanations are interfering with my senses, but yes, there is a large source of life in the cave…"

"Suggestions?" Kyle asked softly.

He heard Juhani say something to Bastila, but it didn't transmit clearly.

((()))

"It's too dangerous," Bastila protested.

"But I can do it! You could not sense me in the grove, until I broke my veil," Juhani pointed out.

"This is different. The dragon has a better sense of smell than I," Bastila said.

"The dragon attacks what it _sees_, not what it smells," Juhani argued.

"How do you know that?" Bastila asked.

"I touched its mind…" Juhani admitted.

Bastila regarded her apprentice levelly.

"I can do this, master," Juhani pleaded.

"Draw the creature out into the open. Do _not_ try to kill it yourself," Bastila said sternly.

"Yes master," Juhani said meekly.

"Go, and may the Force guide your steps," Bastila said quietly.

((()))

Juhani eased through the entrance to the cave. The temperature dropped off precipitously the deeper she traveled. The stone of the cave had been worn smooth, and lichen grew in crevasses of malformed stone, shaped like carbonite statues of horrifically tortured humanoids.

And the Darkside permeated _everything_.

Juhani's slotted pupils widened in the gloom, and she let her jaw drop slightly, to better test the scents on the air. Her instincts screamed at her, warning that a predator was near… but she ignored them, focusing her energy instead on being _nothing_. It wasn't a mind trick, like most Jedi used, to become _unnoticeable_… Juhani was using telekinesis on a level so minute and profound, that she actually bent _light_ around herself. Juhani was _invisible._ The effort and concentration required almost bordered on a meditative trance, limiting its use in battle… but for this? She was still aware of her surroundings…

No one else in the Enclave could do this.

Warily, the apprentice banished the vanity that came with that thought. A Jedi had no use for pride. She could also smell fear. Not her fear, and certainly not the dragon's fear. This was a visceral, mammalian fear. Not all of the prey had been dead…

The darkness of the cave began to brighten around a corner, and Juhani cautiously approached… invisible or not, she'd rather not be stepped on, however accidental, it would still be fatal.

Juhani paused in the mouth to a massive chamber… it could easily swallow the Ebon Hawk ten times over… and nestled in the center, was the _dragon._ Strange fungal growths had erupted from the stone floor… and columns of stone supported the chamber at precise intervals… delicate fronds curled and shifted on the pillars, blown by a gentle breeze… until Juhani realized that there was no movement of air. A large insect of some kind flew past one of the fronds. With a whipping motion, the fronds curled around the insect, and dragged it into the mass of lichen.

Set into the ceiling were inverted pyramids that glowed with a murky green light, yet were strangely clear of any foliage.

Juhani did not realize what she was looking at.

This was an ancient ecosystem, from before Tattooine became a desert planet.

The dragon stirred, its massive head coming up to test the air.

From the mound, Juhani heard a man scream, and he appeared over the lip of the mound, one arm hanging uselessly at his side. Several shapes followed to stalk among the fungal growths. They resembled their mother, but were only five meters long… and there were at least six of them. Without hesitation, they pounced, dragging the man to the ground, and began to tear him into pieces, tugging violently as they fought each other for scraps… it took the man several seconds to die.

((()))

Canderous sat on the lip over the cave, lounging against his weapon… bored.

He caught sight of the _jetaii_ princess below him.

"So… princess… I heard a rumor the Vulkars captured you without much of a struggle… it must be embarrassing to be bested by a handful of street thugs…"

Bastila glared up at him, and he smiled.

"There were _extenuating _circumstances. And I assure you it took for more than a _handful_ of Vulkars to subdue me!"

"I'm sure there were twenty of them. Or fifty, no, surely a hundred…" Canderous snorted.

"Is this the best time for this?" Kyle asked, glancing nervously back at the cave mouth.

"If we had more Jedi like _you_ fighting us in the Mandalorian Wars, my side might not have lost," Canderous shrugged.

"Bold talk from a broken down mercenary who was serving at Davik's _heel_. I'd call you his pet kath hound, but _they _have enough loyalty not to turn on their _masters!_" Bastila shouted back.

"HK, please keep a _very_ close eye on the cave," Kyle said, and the droid nodded, moving to stand in the entrance, peering down into the darkness like a gargoyle of death.

All this noise was making him nervous, and Komad as well.

"Insults?" Canderous asked, intrigued, "Perhaps if your master had trained your lightsaber to be as quick as your tongue you could have escaped those Vulkars. You're nothing but a spoiled _jettai_ princess."

"I was not _spoiled_," Bastila exclaimed, incensed, "I was given the same training as everyone else in the Order! You are nothing but a—"

With a visible effort of will, she inhaled, then exhaled, purging her irritation,

"I must not do this. There is no emotion. There is peace."

Canderous shook his head in disgust, "That's the problem with you _jettai_. Always chanting about _peace_ and _control_, never up for a good fight. Well… except for Revan."

Bastila folded her arms, "Enough, mandalorian. I won't rise to your bait anymore, the game is _over_." Then she proceeded to ignore him, completely.

And Canderous was back to flicking at pebbles and drawing in the sand.

((()))

Bastila felt her apprentice returning at a run, no longer maintaining her veil.

"Juhani's coming back," Bastila called, and the others scrambled to their feet, readying weapons.

The young Cather emerged at a dead sprint, and skidded to a halt, sketching a hasty bow to Master Shan.

"Master, the dragon has young with it, in a large chamber," she said curtly.

"How large a chamber?" Komad asked, touching the missile launcher.

"At least two hundred meters in diameter, and... fifty or so meters high," Juhani estimated, referring to memory.

"That would be ample space to engage the beast," Komad said, looking to Bastila, having identified her as the leader of the group… if not the tactician.

The woman looked to the trooper, who nodded reluctantly.

"Very well, hunter," she sighed, pulling a double bladed lightsaber from under her cloak.

The group entered the cave cautiously, in a loose wedge formation.

Canderous was on point, with the battle droid and Kyle trailing a meter behind him on either side. Komad was thee meters directly behind the heavily armed mandalorian, flanked by the two Jedi.

The air itself seemed to suck the heat from the group.

Every echo, every footstep was amplified and magnified by the acoustics of the cave, until they sounded like a platoon. They reached the main chamber sooner than any would have liked, and Juhani quickly pointed out the dangerous plant life to the others in a hushed whisper, as well as the columns, which could be used as cover.

"Komad, we'll draw the beast out, keep it distracted while you kill it," the trooper said.

"HK, stay with Komad, protect him from the little dragons," Kyle ordered.

"Confident statement: I am looking forward to some unadulterated violence, master," the droid said eagerly.

"So… who wants to tag the dragon on the nose?" Canderous asked, looking at the Jedi.

"I will do it," Juhani volunteered immediately, and ran for the mound.

Kyle double checked his rifle's settings, ensuring that it had a full power pack. He really _hated_ caves.

Komad settled the missile launcher over his shoulder, and waited, ready.

Juhani disappeared over the lip of the nest, and for a moment, everything was silent.

Then the dragon roared in pain, and Juhani Force leapt out of the nest, seconds ahead of a very large set of jaws. She activated her lightsaber, and spun it. The dragon focused on the movement, and gave chase… at a relatively sedentary pace.

"Statement: Multiple organics approaching, prejudice set to maximum."

The bolt-action rifle fired, and one of the infant dragons convulsed in some kind of death throe.

HK coolly cycled the bolt, which loaded another round into the chamber, shifted his aim slightly, and killed a second organic with a shot through the cranial vault via the sinus cavity against a moving target at roughly one hundred meters… a simple shot. When he cycled the bolt again, he realized there were no additional rounds. The rifle was empty. This did not unduly concern him, as he switched combat protocols.

Bastila charged at one of the infant dragons, which reared up, and lunged at her. The agile woman easily sidestepped the attack, using the Force to enhance her speed, and tried to decapitate the creature. The blow left a long gash, but nowhere near deep enough to kill. The dragonling spun and again lunged at her, it was an infant, and had not learned to truly hunt yet. She stabbed her weapon through its eye, and the dragonling collapsed.

The fungus rustled with the passage of low slung reptilian bodies, and Kyle opened fire, causing shrieks of surprise from the hidden predators.

Something pounced on him, and Kyle jammed its jaws open with his rifle. The creature ripped the weapon away, but it gave Kyle the time he needed to snatch out his knife. When the jaws came again, he shoved his knife into the roof of its mouth. The dragonling's jaws snapped shut as it died, but the plastoid vambrace withstood the pressure. Kyle struggled to his feet, using his foot on the lower jaw to pry his knife and arm out of the bastard's grip. He saw Komad fire his missile launcher. The silver projectile flashed through the air, and detonated into a half dozen blades a half meter from the dragon, before blasting into its side. Blood flew, and the beast roared, wounded… but nowhere near dead. Anticipating this, Komad was already loading a second missile into the tube. A dragon tried to attack Komad, only to be intercepted by a rusty droid, which promptly extracted the dragonling's eyes. Howling, the blinded predator ran into the fungus, where its siblings gave chase.

Komad loaded his _fourth_ missile into the launcher. He had brought ten of the missiles, secured in loops on his belt… but although he was gravely wounding the creature, it was still pursuing the young Jedi relentlessly.

Bastila slipped over the edge of the mound, which was full of bone, excrement, and viscera. It stank, terribly. Bastila also couldn't see the Star Map. Considering how geometric the room was, and the location of the Star Map on Dantooine, she guessed it would be in the exact center of the room… but maybe several meters _down_. Bastila ripped large sections of the nest material away in a whirlwind of Force, similar to a drill bit, but made of air and the detritus of the nest itself. She was so focused on the task that she didn't notice the dragonling until Kyle buried a knife in its eye, a few meters behind her.

Kyle clung to its back, twisting the knife in its eye savagely, and the dragonling rolled, trying to dislodge him.

"Unhff!" Kyle wheezed, getting the breath squeezed out of him, but the dragonling completed its roll, and the man was still lying on the ground, partially impressed into the surface of the nest… A droid plucked the knife from the dragonling's eye, and stepped on the dragonling's lower jaw, grabbed the top of its jaw, and promptly forced the jaws past their capacity to widen, shattering them with a sudden crack that echoed off the chamber ceiling.

"Chiding Statement: Please master, try to be more careful. You are so very… squishy…"

Bastila's drill reached the "floor" of the chamber, revealing the familiar tripod stand, and the ball trapped within the prongs. With a whirr, the tripod opened, and the prongs released the sphere, which exploded into a map of the galaxy, just like before.

Bastila reached out through the Force, and created a link between the Star Map and the holocron in her hand. With a shudder, Bastila felt the dark energy that had imprinted the Star Map flow through her mind, and into the holocron.

Kyle peeked over the edge of the nest, and saw that the Krayt Dragon was trying to trap Juhani in a corner of a _circular _room. Komad fired _another_ missile, which slammed into the dragon's throat, causing it to bleed heavily… but considering its size, the damage the hunter was inflicting were mere flesh wounds.

"Query: Master, were you using this weapon?" HK-47 asked, brandishing the commando's blaster rifle. Despite the teeth marks, it appeared to still be in working condition.

"Take it," Kyle wheezed, drawing his heavy blaster pistol.

"Satisfied Statement: Thank you master. I will endeavor to utilize this weapon to maximum efficiency…" HK-47 said gleefully.

Kyle crouched beside the oblivious Jedi, and kept a sharp eye on the edges of the mound. Canderous scrambled into the nest, landing next to his comrade. His heavy repeating blaster was stowed on his back, and he had his blaster pistol drawn.

"You empty?" Kyle asked.

"_Ord'ika_ needs another power cell… I only brought two," the big mandalorian admitted.

"I thought it was against the mandalorian code to run out of ammo," Kyle teased.

"Mandalorians don't need ammo, just knives," the bigger man grumbled.

"Then why have ranged weapons at all?" Kyle challenged.

"Because otherwise slaughtering _areutii_ would take all day… since they runaway so much," Canderous replied.

"How are the others holding up?" Kyle asked.

"We killed all the little bastards, but none of our weaponry has enough punch to kill the _big_ bastard," Canderous admitted.

Komad loaded the last rocket into the launcher. The Krayt Dragon looked dead on its feet, bleeding from its throat and ribs profusely. He aimed for the head… but hesitated. Instead, he began running through the fungal forest, heading towards the dragon. He caught up with the Jedi Cathar, who was retreating from the monster, waving her blue lightsaber.

"Jedi, I need a clear shot to its cranial vault. The easiest route would be through the palate," Komad said.

"Basic, please!" Juhani demanded.

"I need a clean shot to the roof of its mouth!" Komad retorted.

"Oh… I'll see what I can do…" Juhani gulped.

"Suggestion: You will have your desired shot after the large organic roars," the combat droid advised.

"How do you know?" Juhani asked.

"Confident reply: because I am about to shoot its eyes," the droid said, shouldering Kyle's blaster rifle.

And damn him if he wasn't right.

Komad squeezed the firing stud of the launcher, and the shrapnel tore through the cranial vault, and dealt massive damage to its brain tissue.

The dragon stumbled drunkenly, and collided with one of the support columns, and sagged to the ground. It still breathed, but otherwise made no movements, and blood still ran from its wounds, indicating a functioning heart.

"I think you paralyzed it," Juhani ventured.

Komad tossed the spent launcher aside, and drew a rather long, serrated blade of a distinctly brutal design.

"What are you doing?" Juhani asked.

"The Sand People have a custom, where they banish males who come of age, until they have slain a Krayt dragon," Komad said, approaching the crippled beast, "Typically their prey are mere _Canyon _Krayt Dragons, which rarely grow larger than thirty meters. Fifteen to twenty meters is the typical size. To prove their courage, the males must return with the _pearl _of a Krayt Dragon."

Komad powered up the vibro-blade, and began sawing into the dragon's side.

"It's still alive!" Juhani protested.

"So it is," Komad agreed.

"This is barbaric," Juhani said, shocked.

"The widows of its victims would not agree with you, young one," Komad told her, peeling a flap of armored hide aside, revealing muscle and deposits of fat.

Juhani could feel waves of agony rolling off the dragon through the Force. Trapped, unable to move as it was carved open. She climbed up onto its back, and walked towards its head, activating her lightsaber.

"I will end your torment," Juhani whispered, raising her blade as she stood upon its head. Then she crouched, burying her weapon to the hilt. The dragon continued to breath, continued to suffer, even with her weapon in its brain.

"I saw a Dark Jedi stop a man's heart once," a voice said over her comlink.

"Kyle?" Juhani asked.

"He took great pleasure in explaining to the man exactly what he was doing," the commando continued softly, "essentially, it was telekinesis."

"To kill with the Force… that is the dark side," Juhani protested.

"And killing with a lightsaber is different?" Kyle asked.

"You do not understand," Juhani said.

"I can feel that creature's pain, apprentice. Show it mercy, please," he begged.

"I…" Juhani gasped, as a stronger wave of agony washed over her, apparently the hunter was now carving into internal organs.

_There is no death. There is the Force_.

Juhani reached down into herself, and touched one hand to the creature's head. She shoved a tendril of Force down into the beast, following the labored pulse of blood, back… back… back to the source, a place of pressure and movement, a place of life.

She found that massive organ… and then she squeezed the vessels leading to the heart.

"I am sorry," she whispered, as panic overtook the simple mind of the dragon. She had no power to spare, to calm its fear, so massive was the pressure in its veins and arteries. Then, after nearly five minutes without a heart beat, the Krayt Dragon died, confused and alone… but no longer in agony. Juhani slumped wearily, barely summoning the strength to clip the lightsaber to her belt.

Bastila opened her eyes, the transfer was complete. The green glow of the holocron had shifted somewhat closer to yellow, with the addition of the second Star Map. "Are we done here?" Kyle asked tensely.

"Yes sergeant," Bastila promised, tucking their prize away.

"Komad, have you taken your trophies?" Bastila asked the hunter. He was polishing several bloody objects in a rag, "I believe so."

"Then we must leave, quickly," Bastila said.

"As you say," he bowed.

((()))

Outside, in the heat of the sun, far removed from the chill of evil that had permeated the cave, Bastila opened her comlink's channel to the Ebon Hawk.

"Commander?" Carth asked, surprised.

"Captain, I need you to bring the ship to my coordinates," Bastila said.

"Anyone else hear that?" Canderous asked, looking over at Komad. The Twi'lek looked over his shoulder fearfully, as the air trembled subtly.

Bastila looked away from the cave, throwing her senses out across a wide net, searching for the disturbance.

It wasn't another dragon though, she realized, recognizing the slippery texture among the disturbance.

"Hostiles inbound!" Canderous shouted, spotting the speeders and swoop bikes. More importantly, he recognized the man flying at the point of the wedge: _Calo Nord_.

"How many?" Bastila asked.

"Four speeders, two dozen swoop bikes," Ordo reported.

"That's a lot of enemy…" Kyle muttered into his comlink.

"Captain, speed would be appreciated. There are multiple enemies converging on our location," Bastila told Carth.

"We're launching now," Carth said grimly, "Zaalbar, get the lower turret!"

"Jedi up front, everyone else, to the rear!" Kyle roared, motioning everyone to take up positions in the wide cave mouth.

They had twenty seconds. Kyle made them count. When the swoops and speeders roared around the corner, it faced a sudden barrage of blaster fire, from a secured position.

Riders panicked against the display, swerving wildly, often colliding with other swoops. The smarter riders killed the power to their swoops, and were scrambling behind the vehicles for cover, returning fire with a motley assortment of blasters and carbines.

Juhani and Bastila's lightsabers spun, reaching out to deflect most of these bolts.

Kyle and Canderous were the shooters standing closest to the cave mouth, since they only had blaster pistols, and wore heavier armor than the others.

HK-47 was a _terror_. He had Kyle's blaster set to single fire, and was ruthlessly hunting out targets with eerie precision. Calo Nord reprogrammed the speeders, and sent them on a sudden suicide run at the cave, as battering rams of a sort. Bastila could sense though that something malevolent lay within them, if they reached the cave, death would follow.

"Kyle!" Bastila shouted, touching his mind with hers, communicating her intent through their Force Bond.

"Do it!" he said. She pulled strength from their bond, driving the commando to his knees with exhaustion, and suddenly a wall of sand rose up in front of the cave mouth. The speeders slammed into the telekinetically created wall, and exploded, the hidden munitions inside activating from the impact detection. Bastila gritted her teeth, and held the wall. Kyle's hand clamped around her ankle, and more strength flowed into her, reinforcing the failing wall. Telekinesis on such a massive scale was not one of Bastila's strengths. It had been one of Revan's, however…

Then the wall fell, but the danger was past.

Except for the short man leading a charge against the cave.

"Finally!" Canderous roared gleefully, whipping his vibrosword off his back, he broke from the cave with a roar. Blaster fire slapped into his plates, but he dropped his chin to his chest, protecting his throat, and smashed into a pair of aqualish thugs, cutting them in half.

Calo Nord had a pair of vibro-blades in his hands, and lunged at Canderous. The big man frantically fended off the lightning fast slashes of his opponent, hampered by his own larger weapon. Then Kyle was at his side, and landed a lucky kick to Calo's knee, causing the man to stumble.

Canderous swung his sword, aiming to decapitate Calo, but the short man didn't fight gravity and Kyle's kick, simply rolling into a ball under Ordo's sword, to erupt into a spinning kick, which shouldn't have been possible for a non-force sensitive to accomplish.

Canderous's head snapped back from the force of the strike, and Calo hurled a blade at the man's exposed throat, but Kyle's hand snaked out, as if he'd seen the attack coming, and the blade stabbed into the palm of his left hand. Kyle didn't feel it, drawing Calo's blade from his hand with his right, he advanced slowly, giving Canderous time to recover and move up on the left. The two men had sparred against each other long enough to know the other's strengths and weaknesses… and how to maximize their advantages.

A blaster bolt slipped under Kyle's arm as he lunged, and knocked the vibro-blade from Calo's hand. _HK._ Kyle grinned, and swept his useless left hand at Calo in a limp chop. Calo blocked and countered with a snap kick to Kyle's groin, but the cod plate absorbed most of the impact, and Kyle stabbed with the vibro-blade. Calo caught his weapon wrist, and deftly flipped Kyle over his leg, in an Echani throw. He didn't release Kyle's wrist, and swiftly put the commando into an arm lock, rolling over Kyle, and pulling the commando to his feet, using him as a shield against Canderous's attack. Ordo managed to flick his blade's vibration generator off before it hit Kyle's chest plate, but the blow still knocked the wind out of Kyle.

A blaster rose toward's Kyle's throat, but the commando cocked his free elbow into Calo's chin, and twisted his arm out of socket, escaping Calo's hold. _That hurt_. He tucked his chin, and the blaster bolt missed his throat, slamming into the top of his chestplate. Kyle knew he was overmatched. That didn't change the fact that he couldn't retreat.

But Ordo had tricks that Kyle never possessed as a commando. Ordo hit the firing stud on his gauntlet, bathing Calo Nord in a two second stream of fire before the cartridge was expended. The man threw up the flap of his coat, and ducked behind it, emerging unscathed. Apparently the fabric was fire retardant.

_Osik_.

Calo lunged forward, and yanked on Kyle's dislocated arm, causing the man to collapse in agony. The bounty hunter looked behind the men he was fighting, and saw the last of his cannon fodder cut down by the Jedi. He was outnumbered. With a smirk, he dropped a flashbang, and sprinted for a swoop bike in the confusion. Calo vaulted onto the vehicle, kicked it to life and darted away across the sands. A retreat was not the same as a defeat… and Calo Nord had never been defeated.

Bastila felt Kyle's pain reverberate down their Force Bond, and it hit her almost as hard, doubling her over, until she could shield her mind from him.

The rumble of engines carried across the desert, and Bastila shaded her eyes, spotting the rapidly growing speck in the distance.

"Carth, Calo Nord is escaping on a swoop. Do you see him?" Bastila asked, as she

ran across the sand, littered with bodies, and found the commando. Canderous was crouched over him, and stabbed a single use stimulant applicator into the commando's leg, injecting the contents. It was commonly called a sharp by soldiers.

"I'm sorry, commander, I'm not picking anything up," Carth responded.

Almost immediately Kyle began to relax, "Did we get him?" he asked dreamily.

"No, the _hut'une_ ran off," Canderous growled.

"Mmm…" Kyle mumbled, slumping.

"What did you give him?" Bastila asked.

"Short acting sedative. He kept trying to move his arm, but that'll worsen the damage," the mercenary said calmly.

"The Hawk is inbound," Bastila told him, unnecessarily. Everyone could hear the engines.

"Excuse me, Jedi," Komad said, he held a rag out to the woman.

Hesitantly, Bastila took it, and flipped the flaps away, revealing an almost luminous pearl of a breathtaking violet hue, the size of her eye.

"Why?" Bastila asked.

"There were seven pearls," the hunter shrugged.

"Thank you," Bastila said, almost at a loss for words. She tucked the pearl into a pouch on her belt, as the Ebon Hawk slowed, and hovered above the dunes of sand, unable to land. The boarding ramp lowered, and Zaalbar roared, hanging onto one the hydraulic arms.

Canderous moved to pick up Kyle, but Bastila stopped him, "I'll do it," she said firmly.

Canderous shrugged, and began to comb through the battlefield, appropriating equipment from the fallen enemies. HK-47 had already had this thought, and was now wearing several bandoleers that had once been weapon belts… he looked almost rakish.

"And I assume you do not wish others to know of your… Jedi… nature," Komad said.

"It could be dangerous, to us and others," Bastila agreed.

"Then I will make no mention of it," he said, bowing.

The Hawk lowered her cargo lift, and Bastila maneuvered their two swoops onto the lift, which promptly rose.

"Can we fit a third swoop in the starboard cargo bay?" Bastila asked over her comlink.

"Uh… maybe," Mission replied.

((()))

Carth kept a steady hand on the controls.

"So, how much longer are we going to hover here?" Carth asked Bastila.

"We're finished," the Jedi promised.

"Alright," Carth said, remotely raising the boarding ramp from the bridge.

He began to pull away from the ground when Bastila entered the cockpit, "Wait, captain. Target the mouth of the cave," she said, strapping into the navigation station.

"Why?" Carth asked, surprised.

"The contents of the cave are dangerous to others," Bastila replied.

"Sure…" Carth dropped the bow of the Ebon Hawk, until it pointed at the cave below, and armed the turbolasers.

"Fire," Bastila said grimly.

Ruby beams of destruction flashed from the ship, in alternating bursts, reducing the overhanging stone to powder, until the heat of the weapons made the stone run like water, and the sand turned to glass.

"Cease fire," Bastila said, satisfied. No longer would the darkside turn nature into monsters.

"Plotting a course for Kashyyyk," Bastila said, tiredly. The contents of the holocron were still incomplete. When she finished, she automated the jump sequence, while Carth approached the jump coordinates.

"Where are you going?" Carth asked, curious.

"Kyle was injured," Bastila said, tired, "I'll be in the medbay."

"Understood."

((()))

Bastila sat next to the unconscious man, and reached out, to touch him with the Force. She noted the damage to the muscles and bones of his left hand, as well as the torn ligaments and tendons in his right shoulder. She fell into a meditative trance as she used her telekinesis to laboriously realign Kyle's injuries, and then encouraged his body to heal… Neither of these were skills she was proficient at, but she had almost no knowledge of how to use the medical supplies onboard.

"Master?" a voice prodded, and Bastila woke with a start. She'd fallen asleep against the biobed, one hand still lying on Kyle's shoulder.

"What is it, Juhani?" Bastila asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"I… I did something, in the cave," the girl confessed.

"What?" Bastila asked, regarding the girl.

"The dragon was in terrible pain… so I killed it with the Force," the Cathar said miserably.

"When you did this, what did you feel?" Bastila asked.

"I was afraid of using the darkside," Juhani said.

"But what did you feel towards the dragon, as you took its life?" Bastila asked.

"Sadness… pity," Juhani said.

"Then it was not the dark side," Bastila said confidently.

Juhani nodded slowly.

"Juhani, we have not had much time to speak since leaving Dantooine. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?" Bastila asked.

"What do you wish to ask, master?" Juhani wondered.

"How did you become a Jedi?" Bastila asked. It was rare for the Cathar to have force sensitivity…

Juhani's ears folded back, "I am sure you would not find it very interesting... Are you sure you would like to hear?"

"Yes, please continue," Bastila encouraged.

"Back on my homeworld we did not see Jedi very often, especially where I lived," Juhani said.

"The Cathar homeworld?" Bastila asked.

Juhani shook her head, "My parents had long fled from that place, and perhaps that is a story for another time. Rather it was a human hive-world I was raised on. The hind end of space. A pit of a world, to be sure. Where Jedi rarely tread... It was very easy for a child to be enthralled by their image, their mystique. I was one of those children."

"I assume you met a Jedi?" Bastila said.

"Yes… yes I did," Juhani said, her eyes growing soft as she remembered the memory,

"When I saw a Jedi for the first time she lived up to everything my imagination had created them to be. I was awed... especially when she chose _me_. Out of all the children that had come, to gawk at this legend made flesh… that was my master, Quatra," Juhani said, and a tear slipped from her eye.

Bastila nodded slowly, "Thank you for telling me."

Juhani nodded, and fled the medbay.

Bastila frowned, and stared at the man on the bio-bed. She had crouched beside him once before… on the destroyed bridge of his flagship. She eyed the puckered scar, where her blade had nearly succeeded in taking an eye… but the harder she tried, the less she was able to identify the face as that of the man who had held a blade to her throat. Then she reached out, and stepped into his dreams.


	10. Chapter 10: Homecoming

_Kashyyyk._ Bastila told the sleeping man, as she walked through his dreams, alongside the shadow of his mind.

Weakly, flashes of trees and darkness, sharp teeth, and pain darted through the dreams, but nothing more.

_Star Map_, she prodded.

The dark shape halted in mid step, and turned to look at her.

_I cannot remember. _

Bastila had grown accustomed to Kyle's subconscious mind however, and being directly addressed was no longer as startling as it once was.

_We must find the Star Map on Kashyyyk_, Bastila pleaded.

_I will try_, the darkness promised grimly. The impressions returned, but no matter how the shadow fought, he could not force his way through the barrier. The memories were simply too damaged, too fragmented, flowing through his clutching fingers like sand… or blood.

_I cannot remember,_ the shadow apologized.

As Bastila prepared to leave the dream, the shadow paused, _Wait. _

Bastila froze.

_I remember dirt beneath my boots._

_And?_ Bastila prodded.

_That's all. _

((()))

Kyle inspected his hand, and curled it into a loose fist… he didn't put too much strain on it, as Bastila had warned him. His hand was well on the way to recovery, but wasn't fully healed, the same for his shoulder joint.

"Wookiee could you help me with something?" Ordo asked, locating the enormous warrior rooting through the foodstuffs.

_((What do you need?))_ the wookiee asked.

Ordo held up a wrist rocket between his thumb and forefinger, "Could you make more like these?"

The wookiee carefully took the explosive from his comrade, and peered at the design.

_((without auto-tracking and self propulsion?)) _Zaalbar asked, noting the advanced characteristics of the rocket.

"The gauntlet has a magnetic sling as part of the launcher system. I could just use that to propel the missiles, if necessary," Ordo said.

_((Let me check what I have lying around…)) _the wookiee said, intrigued with the project.

"Thanks," Ordo said. Poison darts were fine for killing slavers, but he needed something more… aggressive, as the fight with Calo Nord, and the Jedi Hunters had shown him.

((()))

Bastila convened the crew around the holographic projector in the main hold.

She called up the databank entries for Kashyyyk, and displayed them.

_((Kashyyyk… my home.)) _Zaalbar said, startled.

"Zaalbar, what can you tell us about your planet?" Bastila asked.

_((I didn't leave Kashyyyk voluntarily. I was made an exile twenty years ago, disowned by my home and people. I should not be here. They will not accept me back))_

Zaalbar said, and HK-47 quickly translated for the others.

"Zaalbar, you know more about this planet than any of us," Carth protested.

_((If I am discovered, I will be killed)) _Zaalbar said firmly.

"Very well…" Bastila said, taken aback.

"The star map we're looking for is somewhere on the planet's surface…" Bastila said, "we should make contact with the wookiees, see if they have any legends that might reveal its location."

"Zaalbar, remain with the ship, and I'm sorry Tee three, but your treads aren't suited for this planet," Bastila said.

The little droid moaned, and rolled off, to go find something to repair…

"I'm staying with Big Z," Mission said.

"Very well," Bastila said, shrugging.

"Everyone else, assemble at the boarding ramp… we have a map to find," Bastila said grimly.

((()))

The dockmaster who approached the ship wasn't human. Kyle recognized the horns immediately. A devaronian.

"Let me handle this," Kyle said edging in front of Bastila.

"Greetings to you. While I am pleased to welcome you to planet G5-623, I do not see your ship on my docking schedule," the red skinned alien said graciously, "The Czerka Corporation will see to your needs, of course, but there will be a 100 credit docking fee. In advance, I fear."

"Of course," Kyle said, tilting his head to the left slightly and nodding. A gesture he'd picked up from Ricki.

The devaronian hesitated for a brief moment, before returning the subtle gesture of respect. Kyle also maintained eye contact. Most humanoids became uncomfortable with prolonged "staring" but it made Devaronian's nervous when others would not meet their eyes. Males only broke eye contact when they were finished speaking, and departing, or when they lowered their heads to ram. Kyle handed the credits to the officer, who quickly pocketed them.

"Now, you are welcome on Edean, trade designation G5-623. Czerka Corporation welcomes your business. We should discuss your interests in my office. We will also arrange for translation services, for a nominal fee, of course. You'll be encountering a number of Wookiees while here."

"That won't be necessary, I brought my own protocol droid," Kyle said, gesturing vaguely towards HK-47.

((()))

Canderous did not like the "road" they walked upon. It was a semi flattened tree branch, without handrails… and Canderous did not like heights.

"Maybe we should have brought the Wookiee out. This place looks... untamed," Canderous muttered.

Juhani looked over at the uncomfortable warrior, "Are you afraid of the wild, Mandalorian? Are you a coward?"

Canderous snorted, "Mandalorians aren't cowards. We're just practical." _And I don't have a jetpack._

"Observation: We should have brought the Wookiee, despite the smell. He would have knowledge of this place, master," HK chimed in.

"He has been away a long time," Bastila replied.

"Retort: "_A long time"_ is still more frequent than "_never_," which is how many times the rest of us have been here, master," the droid pointed out cheekily.

_Actually… not quite true in Kyle's case_, Bastila thought briefly.

"Just keep your eyes on the foliage," Kyle sighed.

Juhani felt her blood stir in this strange, wild place… it made her feel… alive. She wished the wookiee could have accompanied them.

"Ahh!" Carth yelped, as something with a _very_ long tongue snagged his arm.

"Carth!" Bastila barked, grabbing him with an invisible hand… which resulted in a tug of war.

Juhani flashed towards Carth, and her blue blade cut the air, severing the tongue.

She caught the unbalanced man, and prevented him from tumbling off the walkway.

"What the hell was that?" Carth demanded, yanking the tongue-like appendage off his arm.

"It wasn't an animal…" Bastila said, searching with her senses, "Some kind of plant. I didn't notice its thoughts," she apologized.

"Great. Now the flowers are hungry," Carth grumbled.

Kyle consulted his datapad, "If the map is accurate… we're getting close to the village."

"Good," Canderous grunted.

((()))

Mission finished slicing into the corporate records of the Czerka building. She was hanging upside down from a vine to get at the communications box, but it was worth it. She plugged the data feed cable into her pad, and downloaded the information she wanted, specifically searching for her brother's aliases…

((()))

Zaalbar focused on the task at hand, teasing the baradium core from a thermal detonator. Once that was accomplished, the wookiee carefully cut the gummy material with a plastic blade, into several strips, approximately the size of the tiny missile casings that T3-M4 had constructed for him, based on a scan of the wrist rocket. Zaalbar wrapped the explosive in a thin plastic membrane, to insulate it from the metal cylinder (which would prevent premature detonation if the casing became charged by static electricity).

He used a cheap two-stage impact detonator, installed in the tip of the small rocket. Once launched from Ordo's wrist, the violent acceleration would arm the impact detonator. Upon rapid _deceleration_, via impact with a surface, the detonator would spike the small strip of baradium with an electrical jolt, causing a small, but powerful fusion explosion. Zaalbar inspected the explosive device, and set it to one side of the work bench, satisfied. He still had enough baradium from the thermal detonator to create four more rockets.

"So, Big Z… what happened?" Mission asked, appearing at his elbow.

_((I'd rather not talk about it))_ Zaalbar said, concentrating on the next rocket.

"Yeah, but it's important, so spill," Mission said impatiently.

Zaalbar snorted in annoyance, but he knew the girl wouldn't let it go.

_((My brother made deals with the slavers and allowed them to get a foothold. I found out, and attacked him. The fight was stopped, but my father did not believe me when I told him about my brother's actions.))_ Zaalbar said, setting the completed rocket next to the first, reaching for another baradium strip.

Mission grabbed his hand, "Why didn't your father believe you?" Mission asked gently.

Zaalbar hung his head, _((When I attacked my brother I used my claws. Our claws are tools, not weapons. To use them in battle is to become an animal. It is madness without honor. I am a madclaw in the eyes of my people. Nothing I say is to be trusted. They were right to cast me out))_

"Big Z, just how old are you, anyway?" Mission asked, curious.

_((By my people's reckoning, I am barely considered an adult))_ Zaalbar said.

"So… would your dad really kill you?" Mission asked.

_((He would most likely never know. Any hunter who recognized me would kill me on sight))_ Zaalbar explained.

"But if you could get to your dad… do you think he'd change his mind?" Mission asked.

Zaalbar shrugged.

"I mean, there's slavers all over the place. Kind of vindicates you… just a little…" Mission pointed out.

Zaalbar hesitated, setting the third missile down next to the first two.

_((Perhaps…))_ Zaalbar said, and he felt something stir in his chest, something painful, that he had given up on long ago.

_Perhaps I can go home_…

"Tee three can hold the fort for us," Mission suggested.

_((No. I will not risk harming you, Mission))_ Zaalbar growled.

"I'm not give'n you a choice, _furball_," Mission growled, planting her weak arms on her fragile hips.

_((I could leave you behind))_ Zaalbar pointed out.

"I'll just follow on foot, get hopelessly lost, and eaten by something with too many teeth," Mission said smugly.

Zaalbar knew she would do it too.

_((Very well…))_ he snarled.

((()))

Mission clung to her friend's back as he scrambled through the thick canopy. She was firmly secured by the strap to Zaalbar's bowcaster, in addition to locking her arms and legs around him.

"I never thought I'd see the big trees. Your stories didn't do it justice. This is incredible!" Mission yelled in Zaalbar's ear. The wookiee ran to the edge of the current bough, and threw himself off into empty space, angling for a trailing vine several meters below them, swinging to the next tree limb. It was insane! So naturally, Mission loved it.

Zaalbar hesitated, scenting the air.

((_The wind... the sound... the smells… I feel it all now that we are away from the spaceport. This walkway is new, probably built by the slavers, but I remember the trees. My village is not far from here.))_

"I'm here for you, Big Z. I've got you back, and no scruffy wookiee is going to hurt you," Mission promised fiercely.

_((My father is not exactly scruffy, Mission. He was very powerful... a chieftain. Perhaps his feelings have mellowed, but if my brother had his ear all this time... I may be very unwelcome))_ Zaalbar said, worried.

"You need to do this, Big Z," Mission encouraged.

_((My shame was meant to be forgotten on some far away world. I never thought I'd come back))_ Zaalbar said heavily.

"Well, we're not going to get anything done just standing here," Mission pointed out. Zaalbar nodded, and resumed their breakneck pace through the thick branches and leaves. He had been running _away_ for too long. Now he was coming back… and strangely, the fatigue that had plagued him for so long abated, even as his muscles began to burn.

((()))

Kyle heard the whine of a blaster retort nearby. The others had heard it as well, and weapons appeared in hands.

"Something died," Bastila whispered quietly, "something _sentient_."

((()))

"This isn't good. I can't afford this," a man in czerka uniform said, staring down at a dead wookiee.

"You think I can? Do you know what they get for a healthy one of these things?" a second man said, worried.

A third man, apparently in charge snapped, "We'll work it out later. We've got company."

The man had a cruel face, Juhani decided. "What do you want, spacers? I'm Patrol Captain Dehno and you're interrupting Czerka Corporation business," he said sharply.

"What happened here?" Bastila asked harshly.

"This Wookiee slave got a little... rebellious. We had to _put it down_," the man sneered at her.

"You murdered him," Juhani hissed, her hand tightening on the hilt of her lightsaber, hidden beneath the flap of her cloak.

"That's right! We had to do it and it shouldn't come out of our pay!" the first guard said, nervous, eying what he thought was a blaster beneath the Cathar's cloak.

"Just shut up, you trigger-happy idiot," the captain barked.

"Do your superiors approve of you killing wookiees?" Bastila asked coldly.

"No, of course they don't. Why would you ask me that?" the captain said warily.

"You're trying to get me to admit to incompetence, aren't you? Not going to happen. I stand by my patrol," the captain accused.

"This Wookiee got out of hand and _had_ to be put down. We'll find another easy enough," the captain told her, as if speaking to a child.

"Commander, can I teach him a lesson? Please?" Kyle said, looking at Bastila.

"Nothing permanent, I hope," Carth muttered.

"No sir, just a quick refresher on basic civility," Kyle promised, handing his helmet to Carth.

"Is that a joke? Who do you think you are?" the captain demanded, his hand straying to his blaster. Bastila nodded to Kyle.

Kyle's hand flashed out, slapping the man, leaving a red imprint on his cheek, and spinning him to the ground. Getting hit on a bare cheek by a man with armor wasn't a pleasant experience. The other two guards decided not to intervene, considering they were staring town the barrels of three blasters… one of them held by a _mandalorian_.

"I'd sit this one out if I were you," Carth advised them. Cautiously, they raised their hands.

Kyle kicked the captain's blaster out of his hand, and it disappeared into the darkness below. It looked like it had been an expensive model too.

"Is that all you've got?" Kyle taunted, beckoning the captain.

Enraged, the man tried to tackle his tormentor, but received an elbow to the jaw for his trouble. The captain spat a tooth out onto the branch, and stood, glaring hatefully at Kyle.

He lunged forward, and tried to punch Kyle. The commando stepped aside, and as the man turned to follow, Kyle landed a headbutt on the man's nose, dropping him.

"Ah… a _keldabe kiss_…" Canderous chuckled.

"Your captain seems to have tripped over his arrogance. Help him back to the space port, would you?" Carth instructed the two cowering guards. The two human men hesitantly threw their captain's arms over their shoulders, and scurried past the republic trooper.

"That was refreshing," Canderous chuckled.

"Observation: there is blood on your forehead, master. You may wish to remove it. No telling what kind of pathogens that meatbag carried… which is why it is far better to be a droid."

((()))

"Sergeant… a word?" Bastila said, jerking her head away from the group. The commando nodded, and followed her _out of "ear shot."_

"What I feel within you troubles me," she said.

He cocked his head at her, bemused.

"A Padawan must receive considerable training. They must learn to control their emotions and darker impulses. Often it takes years before using the Force can be considered safe. The fact that you are so strong in the Force and have had no training could have terrible consequences. For you, and for everyone around you," Bastila warned direly.

"I need my emotions, commander, or else I'm just a _droid_. Besides, I can't use the Force, so what do I care about light or dark?" Kyle asked. _Either no emotions, or become a monster? Hell of a choice._

"Self-control is a maxim for all Jedi. It is what gives us the strength to resist the dark side. All who have fallen from our Order have shown a flagrant disregard for such control," Bastila argued.

_"I'm not a Jedi,"_ Kyle growled. He would _not_ neuter his feelings, just for this woman's imaginary fears.

"Already you exhibit the kind of willfulness, erratic behavior and lack of compassion that will lead you to corruption!" Bastila exclaimed.

"You mean that bastard? He's still breathing," Kyle said coldly.

"You are better than that," Bastila said harshly.

"No, ma'am, _I'm not. _I'm a soldier. I fight, I kill, to protect those who can't protect themselves… like that dead wookiee. _I kill_ the enemy, commander," Kyle hissed.

"We must all resist the influence of the dark side! It is everything we are fighting against! This is doubly important for you, with your natural affinity for the Force!" Bastila retorted.

Kyle stepped back, as pieces began to click into place, "You're not worried about _me_," he realized.

"Our destinies are intertwined. Everything one of us does will have consequences for the other. Any reckless behavior on your part is likely to affect me as well," Bastila admitted.

And suddenly it made sense. But what escaped him was _how_. Was this why Jedi always acted so aloof and mysterious? Because they were trying to keep their distance? Underneath all of their power and strength… were they really so vulnerable to the emotions of others?

"How are we… intertwined?" Kyle asked slowly.

"The council has seen… a possible future… in which Malak is defeated. That future is _only possible_ with your help. I _need_ your help, or I will fail, and the Republic will die," Bastila said heavily.

_So she can't just cut me loose, or avoid me. She has to endure my presence._

"But… why are my emotions such a threat?" Kyle asked, trying to clarify the specifics of the issue.

"Because our fates are intertwined, and that we are both sensitive to the Force, it has created a powerful bond between us. Possibly stronger than that between a master and padawan. Surely you have felt it?"

"I can feel when you look at me, or try to find me without your eyes," Kyle answered slowly.

"Can you feel what I feel?" Bastila asked.

"Sometimes. But it's so faint…"

"Not for me," Bastila sighed.

"Could I… corrupt you… with my anger?" he asked quietly.

"It has been… difficult… these last few weeks… to control my emotions. It was not until you fought that man, when I realized my desire to kill him was not my own. It was _yours_," Bastila said, and Kyle did not see a Jedi Knight. He saw a young woman faced with something no one had ever prepared her for, frightened, and alone.

"So… on Dantooine… my frustration with you fed your irritation with me… which simply compounded the frustration…" Kyle realized.

Bastila nodded miserably.

"It works both ways, doesn't it? You could help me… mellow… a little," Kyle suggested. _Emphasis on a little. Don't smother it_, Kyle thought grimly.

"Yes, that is true, but there are times when I find the sheer strength of your emotions overwhelming," Bastila admitted.

Kyle looked at his boots, sobered by this admission.

"If you'd told me this earlier," he sighed.

"I did not realize such a thing was possible," Bastila explained.

"I will try," Kyle promised.

"I hope it is enough," Bastila said grimly.

((()))

Kyle crouched next to the crumpled wookiee, "What do we do with the body?" he asked.

"Query: why do anything with it at all? There are sufficient scavengers to dispose of the body, without our intervention. Why waste time and resources?" HK-47 observed.

_((I will carry her))_ a wookiee offered. The group looked up as Zaalbar dropped down onto the walkway, Mission's _lekku_ flapping wildly.

"I thought you could not leave the ship?" Bastila said.

Mission slipped off her friend's back, and explained, "Big Z's got some unfinished business with his dad, who's a big shot."

Her face was flushed, and her eyes looked a little _too_ bright, almost like she'd been drinking again, Carth thought, worried. He hoped she hadn't found where he hid the Corellian Whisky.

Zaalbar threw the body of the young female over his shoulder easily.

((Mandalorian)), Zaalbar paused, and fished several objects Mission couldn't identify out of a pouch, and handed them to Canderous.

The group resumed their journey, but encountered no further obstacles, with Zaalbar along to warn them.

((()))

_((Stop where you are, outsider. You enter the domain of Chuundar, Chieftain and leader!))_ a massive wookiee snarled, brandishing his bowcaster in front of a thick wooden gate.

_((Stand aside! This human is with me and I want access to the home of my people!))_ Zaalbar said proudly, baring his fangs.

_((Wait. I know that scent…)) _the wookiees eyes widened in hatred, _((Mad-claw!))_

He raised his bowcaster, but Bastila ripped it from his hands, tossing it off into the trees.

"Perhaps now we can have a civil conversation?" she enquired, activating her lightsaber.

"Take us to Chuundar. We would speak with him," she commanded, prodding at his mind with the Force.

_((You are nameless with dishonor, mad-claw! Yours is a foulness that disgusts me!))_ the guard snarled, looking as if he were about to rip Zaalbar apart, regardless of their weapons, almost as if all he could see _was_ Zaalbar.

"You will take us to Chuundar," Bastila said, pressing harder against the wookiee's will. Finally, she felt the warrior wilt.

_((I will take you to Chuundar))_ he growled distractedly.

"That Force trick thing is really cool," Mission whispered.

"Thank you, Mission," Bastila replied.

"Helpful Observation: it would have been simpler to shoot the hirsute creature, master… and far quicker."

Everyone ignored the sullen droid.

((()))

The village was essentially a large platform, suspended from interwoven tree limbs, that had grown together into a fairly stable mesh, but there were occasional gaps large enough that outsiders couldn't grow complacent, lest they accidentally step through. Wookiees, who had much larger feet, did not have this problem.

There were multiple levels of rough huts, most lashed together, but a few were actually carved into the massive _wroshyr _trees' massive branches. Several wookiees approached, and took the dead wookiee from Zaalbar, before disappearing into a nearby hut.

They were led to the center of the sprawling village, where a long hut had been carved from a branch that thrust up through the walkway.

The guard angrily ushered them inside.

_((Step forward and address mighty and wise Chuundar, outsiders.)) _a wookiee herald commanded.

Zaalbar saw the men wearing Czerka uniforms on either side of the throne.

_((You are flanked by Czerka slavers! Are they not outsiders? Or have you sold all of Kashyyyk to them!))_ Zaalbar demanded, pointing at the nervous humans. Kyle wondered if the understood the native language… or if all they heard were snarls and barks.

A wookiee wearing ornamental necklaces of some kind sat in the throne. Even to Bastila, he did not look quite as… massive… as wookiee norm.

_((Ah, brother Zaalbar. You've been exiled a long time. You shouldn't speak in that tone. Things are different now))_ the chieftain said. HK-47 whispered translations to the others in the group.

_((You are a mad-claw without honor. You have no voice among your own people. I, on the other hand, am Chieftain))_ Chuundar said smugly.

_((You've made deals with slavers. The truth will get out eventually))_ Zaalbar snarled.

_((You may talk, but no one will believe you. I've had a long time to guide what my people think. They trust me, the mighty Chuundar. Even with my brother insane and father enslaved, I rose to protect my people despite it all)) _Chuundar sneered.

_ ((Father was enslaved? "Mighty Chuundar?" What are you talking about? You were the runt!))_ Zaalbar scoffed.

Chuundar sprang from his throne, _((I am no runt!)) _he roared, losing his air of cold superiority. Zaalbar bared his teeth mockingly, and Chuundar slowly returned to his throne, _((Like I said, Zaalbar, much has changed in your years away. We will discuss this soon enough.))_

Chuundar slowly looked away from his brother, eyeing the outsiders assembled before him. He did not miss the fact that they were still armed.

_((You are irrelevant))_ the chieftain said, waving dismissively at them.

"I disagree," one of the outsiders barked, coolly raising his blaster.

_((You understand our tongue?))_ Chuundar asked, mildly impressed.

"Enough," the armored man spat.

_((And what do you think you will accomplish?))_ Chuundar asked, lazily gesturing to the blaster.

_ ((The village believes in me. They would rise to kill you, if you fired))_ the runt chuckled.

"Perhaps," the man agreed coldly, "But you'd still be dead… and that sounds like a good trade to me."

A small alien girl also had a blaster, scaled to her size, pointed at Chuundar, "Let's just shoot the core slime, and get Zaalbar out of here,"

"Assessment: we could neutralize all enemy organics in this room within nineteen seconds. Probability of a target escaping to summon reinforcements calculated at sixty-two point nine percent."

Interesting.

_((And why would you do this?))_ Chuundar asked.

"I'm not going to leave a friend behind, not to the likes of _you_," the man said in disgust.

_((Then I offer you a compromise))_ Chuundar suggested.

The armored man shrugged.

_((Complete a task for me, and I will let you all go free)) _Chuundar promised.

"And Zaalbar?" a female human asked.

_((He will remain with me until you return from your task… an incentive, if you will)) _Chuundar said.

The woman looked at the armored man, "He's not lying."

"What task?" the armored man asked cautiously.

_((A simple thing. Another Wookiee has suffered the same fate as Zaalbar, gone mad and been exiled. He now lurks the Shadowlands._ _More importantly, he's pestering my Czerka allies during their Shadowland expeditions. It is not good for business)) _Chuundar said.

"He's standing against you? The first of many, perhaps?" the woman suggested.

_((No one will follow a mad-claw. He is merely a nuisance. Besides, he cowers in the Shadowlands. My people know nothing of him))_ Chuundar snorted.

Slowly the armored man lowered his weapon.

_((Excellent choice. My hunters will show you where to begin your hunt))_ Chuundar said, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

((()))

"We can't just leave him there!" Mission whispered.

"We're not," Bastila assured her.

"But…" Mission protested.

"We'll get him back," Carth said quietly.

A large wookiee appeared before them, _((Chuundar has commanded that I grant you access to the Shadowlands. Gorwooken is what I am called))_

((()))

In the darkness, a man moved with easy silence. A giant spider-like creature noticed him, and reared back to strike, but with hardly a flicker of effort, the man waved a hand, and the creature promptly ignored its prey, allowing him to pass unmolested.

His robes were made of the hide of several native creatures, after his own robes had disintegrated from years of hard wear. A tach monkey spotted him, and shadowed the man, chirping for scraps.

"Go away, Feor. I don't have anything for you," the man chuckled. Strapped to his back was a crude machete, essentially a sharpened piece of half meter durasteel, cut from the hull of his crashed starship, with a leather wrap handle, the leather darkened by the oil of his hand, and years of use.

The man felt a ripple in the air, and paused. Something was coming.

((()))

"I have a few questions, Gorwooken," Bastila said.

_((Chuundar said nothing of answering your questions. Be brief))_ the warrior said levelly as they walked.

"What do you think of Czerka?"

The wookiee snorted, as if expelling an unpleasant scent from his nostrils, _((They have made Chuundar strong, so we are all stronger, but I do not like them. They are small and hide behind armor. They would not survive the Shadowlands as a true Wookiee. They are not worthy to be there, but Chuundar wills it))_

They reached a strange basket contraption, but it was easily three meters in diameter.

"Uh… I don't think we're all going to fit…" Carth observed.

_((A half dozen warriors may ride within, you are small, you will fit))_ Gorwooken replied.

"Has anyone else been allowed down recently?" Bastila asked, wondering at the integrity of the vines.

_((The journeys of my people are very personal. I won't speak of them to an outsider))_ Gorwooken refused.

"Very well, but have any outsiders been allowed down recently?" Bastila asked.

_((For reasons I do not know, Chuundar allows those of the Czerka to move in the Shadowlands. They kill much))_ Gorwooken said bitterly.

_((And there is another, but he has earned respect. He does not disturb our lives or customs. And he gets angry like a Wookiee sometimes. His name hurts my tongue. He has lived alone in the Shadowlands for many years now))_

"Just unlock the thing, and lower us down," Canderous snapped irritably.

_((The descent is long. Be still, or we will attract... unwelcome visitors))_ the wookiee warned.

The group climbed into the woven bark basket, one at a time, helping the next to enter. The vine creaked ominously, but did not break. Gorwook scoffed at their apprehension, and climbed in last. He reached overhead, and pulled on a crude brake, which began to lower them slowly, perhaps half a meter per second, Carth estimated.

Bastila crouched, crammed next to Canderous and Kyle, and met eyes with Juhani. She touched her apprentice's mind, and in unison, both Jedi closed their eyes, and retreated inward.

Juhani opened her eyes in her master's center, noting the pillars that bore the Jedi code upon them.

"Master, I have tried, many times, but so far have been unsuccessful in creating my center," Juhani confessed.

Bastila sat next to her, and looked as still as their environment.

"It is not a creation Juhani, it is the opposite, in fact. This a place where nothing exists," Bastila tried to explain.

"But I see the pillars. I see you, I see the ground," Juhani said, confused.

"Do you?" Bastila asked cryptically.

"Yes," Juhani said, frustrated.

"Do not worry. It took me a very long time to find this place…" Bastila assured her.

"Yes master," Juhani sighed.

They sat together quietly, meditating.

"Master?" Juhani said tentatively.

"Yes, apprentice?" Bastila asked.

"I never apologized for the way I acted towards you before, in the grove."

"You thought the dark side had consumed you," Bastila said gently.

"But it must be said, I am sorry for attacking you. I am sorry for thinking you would only try to kill me," Juhani said.

"Do not worry, Juhani. I forgive you," Bastila assured her apprentice.

"Thank you... It is most reassuring to know that you can forgive me, even though I tried to take your life," Juhani said seriously… sounding too old for her years. Bastila estimated the Cathar was only sixteen.

They sat in silence for a while, before Bastila asked, "Why are your thoughts so hostile towards Canderous?"

"I am wary of the Mandalorian. I do not trust him," Juhani said truthfully. Which was unfortunate, considering the confines of the basket had her pressed up against the armored man.

"I am suspicious as well," Bastila said.

"They drove my parents from Cathar, aided the Sith and attacked the Republic. Their warped notions of 'honor' may provoke them to do even more heinous acts," the teenager rationalized.

"I do not know why you tolerate his presence on your ship. In truth, he has had some merit so far, but I am not certain it is worth the risk you take," Juhani said, worried.

"You're right. Perhaps we should eliminate him," Bastila said, testing the Cathar.

"Eliminate? What? I never proposed to murder the man!" Juhani yelped.

"Why not?" Bastila asked, and Juhani realized her master was debating with her, and relaxed, "His kind may prove to be a danger to the galaxy again, but this man himself has proven acceptable so far. We should merely keep our distance from him and watch him, so that he does not betray us," Juhani said.

"Have you spoken to him of this?" Bastila asked.

"Spoken to him? No! No, I could not," Juhani shivered, "Mandalorians are vicious of temper and easily provoked. I... I would not want to tempt his wrath."

"You speak from experience?" Bastila asked.

"I am sorry. It is just that I cannot stand to be around him for very long. I suppose I do not really dislike him, it is just..."

"Just?"

"The Mandalorians came and overran my world, they slaughtered my race... I cannot forget what they have done. Or forgive," Juhani admitted, and Bastila found the kernel of darkness she had sensed in her apprentice's thoughts.

"Hatred and fear lead to the dark side, Juhani," Bastila reminded her.

"You are right, of course. You always seem to know what you speak of," Juhani sighed, "This simmering anger and hatred for the Mandalorians seems to have found a place in my heart, though. Sometimes, I worry..."

"If you stray from the path, I will find you, and lead you back," Bastila assured her.

"But... I thank you for your kind words. It is hard being alone all the time," Juhani whispered.

"You fear and worry about all of the harm you might do, that you forget to do good," Bastila advised.

Juhani nodded, and both fell silent once more… but a question burned in her, and Bastila sighed, "What is it, apprentice?"

"Why do you fear Kyle?" Juhani asked, curious.

Bastila knew, that in this place, her apprentice would be able to sense a lie… so Bastila spoke only the truth… from a certain point of view.

"He has suffered greatly in these wars… and he possesses such power. I fear he may lose his way, and give in to the darkness he carries," Bastila said.

"You do not fear what he may do to others, you fear for _him_," Juhani insisted.

"It is… complicated," Bastila sighed, and would not be drawn out further on the subject.

And to her surprise, Bastila realized it truly _was_ complicated.

((()))

As the basket continued to descend, Kyle did a quick calculation in his head. If they were four kilometers above the ground, and the basket descended at 0.5 meters per second, then that was 8000 seconds, divided by 60 seconds, then 60 minutes, it would take them… 2.22 hours to reach the ground.

Kyle isolated Canderous's helmet comlink, so that they could talk without alerting any nearby predators, "Hey Canderous, have any interesting stories you haven't told me yet?"

"You want to hear tales of my exploits? Of the wars I've seen and fought, the enemies I've seen die by my hand? Heh, sure, I'll humor you," the bigger man chuckled.

Kyle settled back. This sounded like it was going to be good.

((()))

The man of the Shadowlands moved hastily through the dark paths, led by a sixth sense he had long cultivated, and trusted in this world where no light shone. He did not see with his eyes, after all. Someone was coming. Someone who would bring great change… but the man did not know for good, or ill. So much was uncertain.

((()))

They had two close calls, when something approached the basket in the dark. Kyle's IR showed him glimpses of something vaguely spider-like, but it kept to the denser brush, preventing him from seeing it properly, and although he tightened his grip on his weapons, the wookiee guide did not seem unduly concerned. Hell, it was probably considered a _prey_ animal.

Carth pulled the IR goggles from his jacket, and slipped them over his eyes. He had three spare power cells for them, and the goggles would last for roughly twenty hours per cell.

Kyle even drifted off to sleep… he woke when they landed with a soft lurch.

_((Prepare yourselves, for these are the Shadowlands, where few tread, and fewer return))_ Gorwooken growled very softly. The group climbed out of the basket, and Gorwooken set the hand brake, to prevent it from returning to the surface.

_((This is as far as I will go. The rest of the task remains to you. Find the madclaw, kill him, and bring back his head. I will return in three days))_ with that, the wookiee released the brake, and the basket began to rise at the same rate it had descended.

((()))

Kyle kept his gaze constantly moving. He'd been in jungles similar to this, but always with a clear objective, usually attacking a fixed installation behind enemy lines, or hitting targets of opportunity. How were they supposed to _find_ a wookiee in all of this, especially if it didn't want to be found?

"Commander?" Kyle whispered.

Bastila stretched out her awareness, and was staggered by the vast amount of life forms that lived in this place of darkness.

None of them were sentient however. She shook her head.

"I'm picking up a comm. unit," Kyle said, startled. He blinked at several symbols on his HUD, calling up the feed.

"It looks like a distress signal," he said. Automated, no audio, standard format.

"Chuundar said the wookiee was attacking his Czerka slavers. Who else would have a comlink down here?" Carth whispered.

"We have three days, it is as good a place to start as any," Bastila agreed.

Kyle pinpointed the direction of the broadcast, and took point. By unspoken agreement, HK-47 took rearguard, and the Jedi spaced themselves among the rest of the group, constantly scanning for hostile intent.

Although as Carth had found out, their senses weren't fool proof.

((()))

Juhani did not like these lands. They were wrong. It was not exactly the darkside… but it felt similar, on a much subtler scale. Her hackles stood on end, and she felt her lips drawn back subconsciously in a constant snarl.

It was hard to focus the Force here.

((()))

Kyle felt the instinctive urge to hurry his pace, to run, but training and experience kept his pace at a steady walk. He had no experience with the warning signs of Kashyyyk's native predators or dangers, and hurrying would shave only minutes off the time it took to reach the objective, balanced against the distinct possibility of injury or death. He could feel Carth behind him, chafing at the bit.

Kyle did not like this terrain. There was no wind here, and hardly any noise. Occasionally something would shriek, before being cut off. There was life here, but mostly death. The foliage consisted of hanging lichen and moss, or other fungi that did not require light to grow. An attack could come from any direction however; something that always concerned the commando, ever since Dxun… but that jungle hell was nothing like this place. On Dxun, everything there was busy eating everything else, mating, and repeating the cycle. No stealth, just ferocity. Here… in these _Shadowlands_… he knew he was being stalked, but whatever was doing it would wait for the opportune time to pounce, and kill him. It was the waiting, the suspense that the man found disconcerting. On Dxun, there had been a certain rhythm. _Three steps, then strike at the leaping predator. Three more steps, then duck beneath the leaping Maalras. Three more steps, and hurdle the charging Boma. Three more steps, and kick the startled Cannock in the face. _Kyle was exaggerating… but only a little.

((()))

They found the campsite, and the transmitter. The commando used his toys to check for traps and explosives, while Canderous waited impatiently, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

"It's clear," Kyle whispered, tucking his sensor away.

Whatever had occurred here had happened fairly recently. Kyle inspected the device sitting on a tripod in the center of the camp.

"It's a sonic emitter of some kind, but it _is_ Czerka manufacture," Kyle reported. Something had hit the emitter hard enough to shatter the duraplast casing, and break the delicate internal components.

"It's nonfunctional," he added.

"Clearly," Bastila observed.

"I bet the emitter was to keep things with teeth away…" Carth muttered. There were splashes of dried blood, which showed up as a darker shade of grey on the goggles, but no bodies. Bedrolls had been torn apart, only a set of durasteel carry-packs remained, near the emitter. Also no sign of blasters or weapons.

"I found the transmitter," Mission said, pulling a comlink out from a tangle of cloth.

Something large erupted from behind a screen of moss, and smashed into HK-47, throwing the droid against a nearby tree. Canderous had a fleeting impression of scales and teeth as he spun to face the attack, before he was carried to the ground. Blaster fire slammed into the creature, which yelped, but otherwise made no sound, trying to quickly overwhelm the wily mercenary. Canderous activated his flamethrower, and fed it some fire.

HK-47 felt a brief moment of mortification, as it fought to aim its blaster rifle at the creature, hampered by the _literally clinging vines_. The creature's ambient temperature had only been two degrees higher than the environment. In the brief second before the attack, that temperature had increased by twenty degrees. An ambush predator that employed some form of hibernation to avoid detection by creatures sensitive to thermal signatures, HK concluded. Unfortunately, thermal recognition accounted for nearly sixty-seven percent of HK's visual sensors…

While the droid was considering this, he was also fighting to extricate himself from the adhesive lichen the spindly meatbag had thrown him into. The strands were quite strong, HK decided, but a sharp object is still a sharp object…

When he stood, he had acquired a camouflage coating of the native fauna. HK suspected the secretions were acidic in nature, and might mar the paint of his armor plating, but preliminary information discounted any long term reduction of his lethality, while granting him a possible advantage in avoiding detection. He would keep the coating… for now. Later though, the services of the mandalorian's flamethrower might be required.

The giant six-legged lizard screamed, and bounded off into the darkness, flames licking from its mouth, making it look like a mythical dragon almost.

"What the hell was that?" Carth demanded.

"Something hungry," Mission commented.

"So… the emitter failed, and that thing ate the people?" Carth suggested.

"Not unless it can throw rocks," Kyle said, showing a stone the size of his fist, with bits of duraplast melted to it, and scorched from the overloaded circuits.

"Not everyone died in the camp," Juhani said, peering at the dirt.

Kyle came to stand next to the teenager. Someone wearing only one boot had fled from the campsite.

"Shall we follow?" Kyle asked his commander.

Bastila nodded.

Kyle touched the knife on his harness, and shouldered his rifle. Juhani took point, focusing on tracking the unfortunate creature.

((()))

The man stood on a branch, watching the interlopers press forward into the Shadowlands, following the trail of a dead man. They didn't look like Czerka's typical puppets. A tach landed on his shoulder, and watched as well.

"What do you want, Faceless?" the man asked.

"Once again you lay me bare," the diminutive monkey chuckled in a voice too deep for it.

"And you took Feor's form because?" the man sighed.

"I knew it would hurt you," the tach gloated.

"Good for you. Anything else?" the man said, uninterested.

"No, that was all," the shapeshifter sneered, disappearing into the darkness.

The man had tried many times over the years to kill the shapeshifter, even as it had tried to kill him. After ten years of such nonsense, they had come to an understanding of sorts. It couldn't fool him with its tricks, and he couldn't kill it with his skills. So they simply agreed to disagree, and tormented each other indirectly.

But these newcomers… they interested the man… which meant Faceless would probably try to snatch them away. The man decided to wait and see. He'd done so for twenty years, why change now?

((()))

The trail was destroyed by clawed foot prints, and Juhani could smell dried blood.

"I do not believe the man survived," she whispered.

Bastila could sense Kyle's agitation, as he constantly scanned above and behind.

"What's wrong?" Bastila whispered.

"We're being hunted," Kyle said grimly.

"I don't sense anything," Bastila said.

"This trail, it's wrong," Kyle insisted.

"What do you mean?" Bastila asked.

Kyle couldn't figure it out, but something about the tracks wasn't right. He really wished Zaalbar was here… Kyle stared at the marks, hard, but the answer eluded him.

"Observation: unless this meatbag had two left feet, these tracks are indeed a fabrication," HK-47 said, his vocabulator set to minimal levels.

Something giggled in the darkness overhead. Kyle ducked away from a pair of falling shapes, he ignored them after determining they weren't dangerous, and snapped his gaze up, searching the impenetrable canopy.

Carth took a closer look at the objects and shuddered. One was a man's left boot. The other, the foot that should have gone in it, gnawed off at the knee.

"This is not good," he said grimly.

Bastila still couldn't sense anything.

"It's toying with us," Canderous said angrily. He didn't like being toyed with.

"I'm picking up another comlink signal," Kyle said grimly, looking to Bastila.

"Let's go…" she said tensely.

((()))

This camp had also been hit by something hungry, its sonic emitter damaged by a rock.

"It appears Czerka tech is not very durable," Bastila observed.

"Confirmation: Czerka is cheap and efficient… best used for jury-rigging traps and explosives that are meant as disposable distractions. MerrSonn is a much better choice for _lethal_ traps and devices," HK-47 informed her.

The attack was sudden, swift, and eerily silent. Several large reptilian creatures erupted from the dirt where they had buried themselves. Bastila's lightsaber scythed into the hungry creatures, and Juhani let loose a barking roar, not dissimilar to a pouncing tusk-cat.

Canderous smashed _ord'ika_ into one of the lizards, knocking it away from its intended target: the twi'lek, and stomped on its snout, pinning it to the dirt for the seconds needed to tear its head apart with a burst from his weapon. These were only half the size of the thing Ordo had lit on fire, but they were faster, and more numerous.

Kyle snapped the butte of his blaster rifle into a lizard's jaw, and pumped several blaster bolts into its chest, dropping the creature. Another creature latched onto his right forearm, its teeth sinking into the plastoid a few millimeters, the sudden weight almost dragging him down. Kyle snatched out his knife, and quickly gutted the lizard-thing from throat to hips. Unfortunately, it died, without letting go.

Then a barrage of blaster fire slammed into the lizards from the side, and within short order, the few surviving creatures fled into the trees.

"Who the hell are you?" a man demanded, wearing mud splattered armor, designed to withstand physical attacks, rather than energy based weaponry, though it was painted in similar pattern and color to the uniform of a Czerka patrol captain, "and where's the rest of my men?" the captain said, gesturing to the campsite. The other four Czerka guards had durasteel packs on their backs, and one carried what appeared to be a portable sonic emitter.

"We don't know," Bastila said honestly.

"You'll have to do better than that," the captain snarled, raising his blaster rifle.

"Something is hunting your men, captain," Bastila told him.

"Something is _always_ hunting us in this damned place," the captain retorted.

"We detected an automated distress beacon, and investigated. Something took out their sonic emitter, and it looked like predators swarmed them. Then we detected the beacon from this camp," Kyle explained.

"We haven't been able to raise Gamma or Delta team," the captain said grimly, lowering his blaster.

"Whatever it is, it's smart enough to break your emitters with rocks, and it led us off with false tracks," Carth said.

The captain glanced back at his men.

"Damn it…" he sighed.

"Captain, Chuundar sent us down here to apprehend a madclaw, who is harassing your people. Could this be related?" Bastila asked.

"Chuundar? He's that pet wookiee who keeps the primitives in line…" the captain said in realization.

"What are you doing down here?" Carth asked, curious.

"Tach glands. They sell for nearly a hundred credits apiece," the captain explained.

"Where's Sims?" one of the guards yelped, and everyone turned to look at him.

One of the guards was missing.

"Who's Sims?" Carth asked.

"He had our sonic emitter!" the captain spat.

Something rustled in the moss nearby, and a man stepped out,

"Whoa, geeze!" he yelped, dropping his blaster and crouching, raising his hands.

"Sims, what the hell were you doing?" the captain barked.

"Sorry, captain, I had to… well, uh…" the man stammered.

"Sims… have you been hitting the spice again?" the captain asked in a quietly dangerous voice.

"No… well, just a little, to take the edge off!" the man protested.

"Give it to me," the captain said, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, the man pulled an opaque cylinder from his belt pouch and slapped it in his captain's hand. The captain promptly pocketed the drug.

"If we weren't so short-handed I'd shoot you. Do you understand?" the captain threatened calmly. Bastila sensed that the words were true.

"Y-yes sir!" the man gasped.

"And pick up your damned weapon," the captain hissed.

"Come on men, we'll collect Gamma team's tach glands, then we're getting the hell out of here," the captain said, distributing the durasteel carry packs from the camp among his men. "Captain…" Bastila said, warningly.

"What?" the man sneered.

"Don't stop to rest. Your sonic emitter will not protect you from whatever hunts here," Bastila said softly.

The man began to snap something, but he realized she was sincere.

So instead, he nodded gruffly. The poachers departed in short order.

"We need a new strategy," Canderous said bluntly.

"This isn't working," Carth agreed.

"I should have detected those animals," Bastila said, worried.

"Extrapolation: these particular meatbags appear to have some form of hibernation, until they detect nearby prey. It is possible that there was nothing _for_ you to sense… until they attacked, of course, master," HK offered.

"We'll never find the madclaw at this rate," Mission sighed.

"We'll get Zaalbar back," Carth assured her.

"How?" Mission demanded.

"By force, if necessary," Kyle promised quietly.

"You look a little lost," a voice observed, and the Jedi ignited their weapons, shedding light on a man in black leather robes, with a hood that covered all but his mouth from the lightsaber's glare.

"Who are you?" Bastila demanded, probing at the man with the Force, but she couldn't sense him, similar to Calo Nord, her attempts slipped off. No… wait. Bastila continued to probe the sensation in the Force. It was almost like an oil slick, she supposed… and it was _exactly_ like Calo Nord.

"I'm just an old man, who's been lost in the woods too long. Follow me to my camp and we'll talk a bit," the figure shrugged.

"Should we trust him?" Carth asked.

"There's only one of him. If he proves a threat, I'm sure we can handle him," Canderous pointed out.

"Look, you can follow me or stumble around on your own, but I'm too old to babysit you," the man snorted, and turned, walking off into the darkness. A lightsaber was clipped to his belt.

After a moment's hesitation, Bastila followed.

"So you'll follow the crazy old man," the hooded figured chuckled, "Keep close then."

((()))

The _camp_ turned out to be a crashed freighter. Most of the ship was mangled and crushed beyond recognition by the trees, but the boarding ramp was still intact, which the old man lowered for them, shooing them inside. Apparently the only space intact was the cargo hold, which the old man had turned into a home of sorts.

The ramp rose with a dull whine, until the old man irritably stamped on a section of it, and the whine grew quieter.

"Damned monkey," he grumbled. He flicked on a halo lamp, which illuminated the hold, and with relief, the group was able to see in color again.

"Well, welcome to my home, such as it is. Pull up a stump and be comfortable. We should discuss a few things," the old man sighed, sitting down in a hammock made from cargo netting.

"Yes, I feel there is much you can tell me," Bastila said respectfully, though in reality, she was wary.

"Don't coddle me, child. I'm neither a Jedi nor your master. I'm just an old man that's been lost in the woods for far too long," the old man snorted.

"Surely there is more than that," Juhani objected.

"Ah, what is there to tell? I'm content with the impression I give," the man cackled.

"You are a Jedi. I can feel your power, and there is no taint of the darkside upon you," Bastila said. It wasn't like a normal person's, however. This was like seeing it through the rippling surface of a lake. She was fairly certain though that she couldn't see any shadows.

"I've seen my share of the dark and the light. And frankly, both extremes annoy me. Of course... I have felt the rumblings of change…" the man said cryptically.

"It's kind of nice to meet a Jedi who isn't all hung up on this light side, dark side stuff. It gets pretty tiring, you know?" Mission said.

"Well, I assure you, I see more grey than dark or light. I'm just a stubborn old man, tired of the foolishness of others," the man sighed irritably.

An awkward silence fell as everyone looked at the possibly senile, likely dangerous rogue Jedi.

"We both know why you have come here. The Star Map. That has to be it. There is nothing else here," the man said, "The problems of a few Wookiees don't amount to anything before the concerns of the Jedi. No, you are here for the _map_."

"If you have information, please tell it to us," Bastila requested.

"Wait wait wait, slow down. I have to ask something of you. I've got something _you_ need, and you can help _me_," the man said, waving off her request impatiently.

"I'm honored to help someone of your experience," Bastila said respectfully.

"Oh, save it. I know this sounds absurd, but I'm old and entitled to work you around a bit. Besides, the task is simple. There's a shapeshifter out there, you've already met it," the man said.

"The one who made the false trail?" Juhani asked.

"That'd be the one," the man agreed, "It doesn't respect this place; butchering wildlife, threatening entire species… and it's getting under my skin, mishandle _my_ garden, will it?" the man said in annoyance.

"I see… So the aged semi-Jedi wants us to get some kid off his lawn," Carth sighed.

"Yes, yes, I'm an old man that's getting fussy. Call me foolish if you will, I don't care. You still have to help me do it," the man grinned.

"Why not just go get rid of it yourself?" Canderous asked.

"Don't talk back to your elders, kid. Look, it knows me quite well, and is always on alert when I approach," the old man explained.

"Why have you exiled yourself _here_?" Bastila asked.

"Why? Don't you like what I've done with the place? The creatures here aren't any more treacherous than elsewhere," the old man shrugged.

"Zaalbar's running out of time," Mission piped up.

"Very well. We will assist you," Bastila promised.

"Good. We need to find those poachers," the old man said, jumping to his feet.

"Why?" Bastila asked suspiciously.

"You'll see," the old man chuckled.

((()))

Captain Obradae ran through the forest, his IR goggles turning everything into a nightmarish stream of black and white images. He'd tossed his packs as he ran, fleeing the thing that hunted him. It wasn't possible, it couldn't be—

A fist smashed into the fleeing man's chest, throwing him against a tree with rib breaking force.

"Captain," Sims said pleasantly in a deep bass, casually flicking Obradae's carbine out of reach with his foot.

"What are you?" Obradae gasped, blood flecking his lips.

The man picked up Obradae by his hair, easily lifting him aloft.

"I'm complicated," Sims said simply. He smirked, revealing serrated teeth that no human had ever possessed, and tore out the captain's throat.

This was fun.

((()))

"Huh. I guess Faceless was a little impatient…" the man observed, glancing at the broken bodies of the Czerka mercenaries.

"The spice addict. That was the shape shifter?" Bastila asked.

"Yep. He was lighting up alright… but Faceless got him, and impersonated him,"

"He was so convincing though…"

"Near as I can tell, he really does assume the physical body of his victims, it's not an illusion, and he can absorb some of his victim's memories…" the man explained.

"Is it natural ability or alien technology?" Canderous asked.

"Does it matter?" the man grunted.

"Master, I am uncomfortable leaving the others behind in the ship," Juhani said, worried.

"Captain Onasi and the others will be fine. We are the ones in danger," Bastila assured her.

"Observation: the young female master is safer in the derelict freighter and under guard then if we brought her along," HK-47 pointed out.

"Besides, it has to kill in order to assume a new shape," the old man grunted.

_Wrong, old man_… _dead wrong._


	11. Chapter 11: Symbols

Kyle sat facing the raised ramp of the freighter. He'd hear if anything large tried to get in, but there were plenty of cracks a small animal could enter through. The old man had warned him sternly to let _no one_ out of his sight. Mission was sleeping in the hammock. Only Carth was unable to sleep.

Kyle had begun to drift off when someone hammered on the ramp,

"Kyle! Lower the ramp, please!" Juhani pleaded.

Kyle moved towards the ramp controls.

"Sergeant, what are you doing?!" Carth hissed, grabbing the man's wrist.

"Please, I can hear it coming!" the girl begged.

"Captain, get out of my way!" Kyle barked.

"No. We don't know if that's really Juhani!" Carth snarled.

"I don't care, we have to take that chance!" Kyle exclaimed.

Carth drew a blaster.

"What? Are you going to shoot me?" Kyle demanded.

"Please, don't do this," Carth pleaded.

Kyle kicked the blaster out of his captain's hand, and buried a fist into Carth's belly, knocking all of the wind out of him in an explosive gasp.

"Sorry captain," Kyle said. He tripped the ramp, drawing his blaster.

"Kyle!" Mission yelped.

As the ramp lowered, he saw Juhani's bloodied, tear stained face.

"Apprentice!" he shouted, holding out his hand.

Desperately, the girl grabbed his wrist, and he pulled her inside.

"Where's the others?" Kyle demanded, keeping his blaster trained on the ramp until it finished rising.

"They're dead," Juhani whispered, her eyes empty.

"Hold still," Kyle said gently, "I'll patch you up," he pulled out his portable medkit, and gestured for the injured girl to sit down. As she turned Kyle shot her in the chest.

"You said you knew how to pull your punches!" Carth demanded, rubbing his stomach.

"I did pull my punch," Kyle said.

Juhani's eyes flashed open, and her back hand threw Kyle across the cargo hold, crashing into a bulkhead.

"Impressive!" Juhani congratulated, her voice deep and alien.

"Did we have a plan B?" Mission gulped.

Carth's reply involved a lot of blaster fire, but Juhani's form was already shifting into something strange and terrifyingly alien.

((()))

Bastila's eyes opened, "The plan didn't work. Kyle's hurt," she said.

((()))

Carth ducked under the monster's claws, and rolled behind a set of crates.

A red lightsaber snapped to life, and Kyle charged, wielding the weapon like a vibro-sword, but the blade only irritated the monster, and Kyle flew through the air _again_.

Mission saw this, and instead of using her hold out blaster, she stabbed her vibro-blade into the back of the hunched creature's knee. It sank to the hilt, and Mission ripped it free, scrambling away from the lamed and furious monster.

Kyle crashed onto its back, and stabbed his combat knife into its neck, then jumped away before the shapeshifter could retaliate.

Mission danced past, dragging her vibro-blade through its ribs, and when it turned to pursue her, Carth fired at its eyes, distracting the monster, which let Kyle score a hit on its thigh. "These pinpricks cannot kill me," the monster sneered. It was true, before their eyes the ragged wounds were closing. Mission stabbed it again, just in case, and the monster roared in outrage. Kyle strong armed a frag grenade down its gullet.

"What did that achieve?" the shapeshifter sighed.

Kyle tapped a button on his vambrace. The jury-rigged explosive detonated, and the shapeshifter fell to one knee, choking and gasping, its innards riddled with shrapnel.

Mission jumped forward, hacking at the monster, but the beast started climbing to its feet, the damage reversing itself.

Carth however, had already realized that, and the ramp was starting to lower. He shoved Mission outside, and rolled behind her. Kyle stabbed the mechanism with his lightsaber, locking the ramp half-way open, too small for the monster to escape, and wiggled out. Unfortunately, the monster just smashed the ramp all the way down with one enormous foot, and squeezed out.

"Go ahead. _Run_," the shapeshifter goaded.

Kyle felt Bastila touch his mind urgently. He grabbed Mission, and tackled Carth, shielding them with his armored body. Something small flickered overhead, and slammed into the monster, detonating with enough force to blow off one of its arms. It stared at the severed limb, apparently in shock. Canderous stalked into view, loading another wrist rocket into his gauntlet. The monster turned its gaze to the approaching mandalorian. Canderous fired, the explosion threw the monster back into the crashed ship behind it, minus most of its belly.

Then the mandalorian raised his right arm, and hosed the creature with fire.

The shapeshifter screamed, and contorted in the flames, attempting to change shapes, but for some reason, it was having difficulty, and still Canderous burned it.

The monster dissolved into a nebulous blob of tissue, before even that began to blacken and curl. Finally, Canderous's flamethrower ran dry, after nearly thirty seconds of continuous use.

"I think you got it," Kyle observed breathlessly.

Canderous stomped on the blackened husk, scattering it into a fine powder.

"_Ret'lini_," _((Just in case))_ Ordo snapped.

"Well, it seems you don't do anything by halves," the old man cackled, slapping Canderous on the back.

"Of course not, I'm mandalorian," Ordo shrugged.

"Was anyone hurt?" Bastila asked.

"Bruises, a few pulled muscles," Kyle reported.

"About the same," Carth agreed.

"My hand hurts," Mission said.

"Here, let the old man take a look." The dark skinned humanoid clucked over Mission's hand, and Bastila felt the Force flicker around him.

"Hey…" Mission flexed her fingers, "Thanks,"

"Ah, don't start fawning just yet, I'm too old for it," the man chuckled.

"Now… about that Star map…" Kyle said.

"Fair is fair. I know where you want to go. I can get you through to the old paths. This forest hides some _strange_ things," the man agreed.

"You still haven't told us your name," Bastila said.

"Oh? I suppose you can call me Jolee. Uncle, if you're feeling facetious, old man if you're not," the man chuckled.

"Very well, Master Jolee, but we have little time," Bastila said.

"I know, I know," Jolee grumbled, "There's never enough time with you young'ns."

((()))

"Have you noticed, we haven't been attacked by anything with teeth yet?" Kyle whispered to Bastila.

"What's that sonny?" Jolee asked.

"Where are all the predators?" Kyle asked in a normal voice.

"Oh, I sent them along to play somewhere else. Damned nuisance sometimes," Jolee grumbled.

"How far away is the map?" Bastila asked.

"Patience, child," Jolee sighed.

"Do you trust him?" Canderous asked Kyle on a private channel.

"Do we have a choice?" Kyle countered.

"No…" the mandalorian grunted.

"Bastila seems to trust him," Kyle said.

"That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence," Ordo replied.

"Maybe it's a Jedi thing?" Kyle ventured.

After nearly three hours of hard hiking, unmolested by an attack of any kind, the group covered a lot of ground, nearly fifteen kilometers. Having Jolee with them was proving to be _extremely_ useful.

"Hold up, gang," Jolee said, halting their march.

"Have we arrived?" Bastila asked.

Jolee pulled a sheet of moss aside, revealing the warped metal of some large construct. It had glyphs similar to the ones from the Dantooine temple, however.

Bastila spotted the star map, but it didn't activate upon her approach. Strange.

"Yes, there's the thing. Obstinate machine. I've no doubt it holds what you seek, but good luck getting it operational," Jolee said in annoyance, gesturing at the construct. He gave it surly kick.

A holoprojector flickered to life, showing a crude holographic approximation of the Overseer, "Life forms detected. Determining parameters. Initiating neural recognition," it said in neutral Basic.

"That's new," Carth noted.

Its holographic head slowly turned, gazing at each of the group in turn, but it paused on Kyle. "Primary neural recognition complete. Preliminary match found," it said.

"Match found...? What the... it always muttered something about "rejected patterns" for me," Jolee said, incensed.

"Begin socialized interface. Awaiting instruction. Greetings. This terminal has not been accessed for quite some time," the projection said politely.

"Who placed this terminal here?" Kyle asked, after Jolee nudged him eagerly.

"Error. Subject displays unfamiliarity to environment. Behavioral reconfiguration will be needed before access," the hologram said. Bastila glanced at Kyle. She had a fairly good idea who had created this interface.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to confuse you. I will answer questions to the best of my programming limitations," the hologram said.

"Tell me about this installation," Kyle said, curious.

"I utilize a retro-adapted holocron-interface. Clarify your questions and I will attempt to access original system memory," the image told him.

"Who built this installation in the first place?" Kyle asked. He wanted to know about these _Builders_.

"Error. Information regarding the builders of this installation has been corrupted. _Error. Corruption. Extrapolating_. This utility was built to monitor planet-wide agricultural reformation. It has since malfunctioned. It can be theorized that the super-growth of Kashyyyk's forests is a direct result."

Jolee's bushy brows rose, "Well, that is surprising. I doubt any Wookiee would support such a claim. The forest is millenia old."

"Malfunction occured 241 years after last builder communication. Last builder communication... 29,642 years before current Republic standard," the image finished.

"That is a short period for adaptation of native creatures," Kyle observed.

"_Error. Records corrupted._ It can be theorized that bio-seeding allowed the ecology to remain balanced. It could be expected that the same energy feeding the trees of Kashyyyk also accelerated the evolution of various species," the interface said.

"Why was agricultural reformation needed?" Kyle wondered.

"Agricultural record indicates this planet was incapable of sustaining sufficient levels of production. _Error._ Specific conditions corrupted. It can be theorized that produce was being exported to support a larger demand," the interface reported.

"When was this interface installed?" Kyle said.

"This interface was installed to better access the ancient data stored within the pre-existing system. The exact date is unavailable. Programming keys indicate no earlier than five years before current Republic standard. No other information on time of installation or identity of user available. Likelihood of removal by user, 100%," the image reported.

"Hmm, five years ago? I didn't notice it. This must have been installed in strictest secrecy. It couldn't have been Czerka," Jolee decided.

"That would have been around the time Revan and Malak were here," Bastila whispered to Kyle.

"Who last accessed this installation?" Kyle demanded.

"Sorting by identity. Three attempts by the Wookiee Freyyr, all denied. 152 attempts by human Jolee Bindo, all denied."

"Call me stubborn, I guess. There wasn't much else to do around here," the old man chuckled.

"_Error._ List of access attempts prior to these is corrupted. Likelihood of removal by user, 100%."

Kyle nodded slowly, thinking, "What is the function of this installation?"

"The current purpose of this installation is defense," the computer interface answered.

"Defense of what?" Kyle asked.

"_Error._ That information is not available."

"What limitations have been placed in your programming?" Kyle asked.

"Corruption has resulted in gaps appearing in my memory, and in that of the original installation. It could be theorized that these gaps are intentional, but I have no information on that."

Kyle sighed in irritation. He hated computers.

"Ask about the behavioral reconfiguration," Mission suggested.

"Explain what you meant by _behavioral reconfiguration_," Kyle said.

"I have been programmed with a very limited field of knowledge, and I must restrict access to only those that fit my allowed pattern."

"And I don't fit that pattern?" Kyle clarified.

"I can't say. I will try to bring forward the behavior that you need to proceed, as outlined by my programming," the hologram apologized.

"That seems very helpful. Why have I been allowed access?" Kyle asked suspiciously.

"I can't say. Preliminary matching allows for you to be coached."

"Do you not know why, or are you restricted from saying?" Kyle said.

"I can't say. Likelihood of restriction by previous user, 100%."

"Tell me about your Star Map," Kyle growled.

"Accessing. Yes, I have found a Star Map in original system memory. Access is restricted."

"How do I gain access?" Kyle sighed.

"Your request requires additional security access. You must be made to match the parameters I have been supplied."

"That sounds ominous," Bastila said.

"How can I match them when I don't know what they are?" Kyle demanded.

"There are measures available. Personality profiling will verify the basic structure of your conscious mind. With that, I will determine whether you are ready to receive the Star Map, or can be made ready."

"And if I fail?" Kyle said.

"Then you are not worthy of further access. You will be rejected as unsuitable."

Kyle glared at the computer then, at the rest of the group.

"We don't have a choice, sergeant," Bastila apologized. He nodded grimly.

"Alright, just watch my back…" he sighed.

"Begin the evaluation," he said.

"Evaluation commencing. Results will be compared against the pattern in memory. Just act like you should."

Kyle nodded, and the computer continued, "You travel with a Wookiee and have encountered complications. Hypothetical: you and this Zaalbar are captured and separated. If you both remain silent, one year in prison for each of you. However, call Zaalbar a traitor, and he will serve five years, while you serve none. He is offered the same deal, but if you both accuse the other, you both serve 2 years. What do you do? What do you trust him to do?"

"How do you know about him? He isn't here," Kyle said suspiciously.

"I hear what happens on Kashyyyk, and a good deal beyond. Answer the question I have posed."

Kyle nodded slowly, "I trust Zaalbar. I would say nothing, and neither would he."

"Are you sure? If you turn, you risk two years, or none at all. If you rely on loyalty, you risk one year or_ five_. Your loyalty is dangerous. Your companion could take the opportunity to benefit by turning on you. Zaalbar's family is mired in treachery. What loyalty do they know? Your answer is incorrect."

"The choice is mine. I refuse to alter it," Kyle challenged, raising his chin.

"This machine certainly seems to want a very specific type of response," Jolee muttered into his beard.

"You cannot change your answer. Evaluation must continue. You must match the pattern in memory. The previous incorrect response will be discounted. Future incorrect responses will result in rejection," the computer warned him.

"Get on with it," Kyle growled.

"Hypothetical: you are at war. Deciphering an intercepted code, you learn two things about your enemy. A single spot in their defense will be at its weakest in ten days, and they will attack one of your cities in five days. What do you do with this information? What is the most efficient course of action?"

Kyle lowered his head, "I prepare my forces to attack in ten days. I do nothing in the city," he said bitterly.

"Very good. If you had moved to evacuate the city, you would have alerted the enemy to their lost codes. Ultimate victory required the deaths of the people in that city. You wisely ignored sentiment in your decision."

Carth stared at the commando incredulously, "You mean you'd just let all those people die? That's monstrous!"

Kyle looked at his captain, "Sir… even if that city was my home, I would do the same. The loss of a city is irrelevant. Stopping the war saved many more people."

Bastila could feel the pain the words caused the commando however… but he was telling the truth. _He had done so before, _Bastila realized.

"You achieved the proper result with logic that does not match the pattern in memory. I shall adjust my evaluation.

Hypothetical: remove the ongoing war from the previous example. Consider enemy states to be weak and remote. With no external threat, your empire stagnates. Your people become complacent and begin to question you. Same scenario as before; you discover an impending attack, but also a weakness that will come after. How do you react?"

"I stop the attack. I protect my people," Kyle said coldly.

"But if nothing happens, your people will not perceive a threat. You have coddled them. Your empire will be brought down by introspection. However, allowing the attack to occur makes the most strategic sense. Your people would rally beneath you against the common foe. As their eyes turn outward, your rule would strengthen. The trappings of war grant many opportunities. You have failed to match the pattern in memory. Access denied. This system will purge the subject as false. Defense mode initiated." the computer said.

"_Kyle!_" Bastila warned, spotting the movement of a golden statue pushing its way through the moss.

HK-47 fired, the bolt deflecting harmlessly off the statue.

"Observation: Target possesses ray shielding. Switching protocols,"

HK-47 calmly snatched a large limb off the nearby tree trunk, snapped it off with a swift jerk, and used it to knocked the statue off its feet, doing no appreciable damage.

"Kyle, get me a rock," Bastila snapped.

"With pleasure," the commando snarled, hacking at the trunk of a nearby tree with his lightsaber, carving out a chunk half the size of a man.

"That will do. Juhani, follow my lead," Bastila said, stretching out her hand. The young Cathar mirrored her, and together, they lifted the thick piece of dense wood, and smashed the statue against the installation with it.

A section of the shielding was sparking now, and Kyle stabbed his red lightsaber into the statue's chest, sawing viciously. The statue straightened, and pushed Kyle aside carefully, then retreated back into the trees.

"What the hell?" Carth demanded.

The hologram returned, "It would appear initial assumptions about you were incorrect. Secondary scans during battle have revealed much. Under duress, your emotions were easier to read. Programming now instructs that I give you what you seek."

Kyle looked at the construct warily, "Why the change? I failed your initial test."

"I am programmed to guide, not inform. Soon you will recognize the proper course to follow. The Star Map is yours. This unit has now completed its primary duty and has finished with the subject. Executing final action. Activation of Star Map commencing. Parameters reset. Stasis initiated. End communication," the computer said, and the hologram died. Beside it, the prongs of the Star Map opened, and released the spherical repository. Bastila stepped forward, and established the link to her holocron, beginning the transfer.

"I wonder if the Star Map has had an effect on the evolution of the creatures here in the Shadowlands. Might explain why it's so exciting down here. An interesting theory, but I suppose we don't have time to test it now, do we?" Jolee pondered, arguing with himself.

"I suppose if the Star Map is as old as everyone seems to think, it could have been here before all these damn trees. It's just hard to imagine," Canderous said, looking up.

"Actually, Jolee…" Kyle said slowly, "Have you seen a crazed Wookiee in the Shadowlands?"

Jolee snorted, "Maddened with grief, perhaps, but not crazed. I helped him escape a Czerka ambush… but this was… nineteen, twenty years ago? I forget."

"We need to find him," Mission said.

"For this _Zaalbar?_" Jolee asked.

"Chuundar is holding Zaalbar hostage. We have to bring him the madclaw's head to free him," Carth explained.

"Hmm… I'll take you to him… but before you go taking anybody's head, I want you to talk with him," Jolee said firmly.

((()))

"There… in that cave," Jolee said pointing.

"Is it a cave, or a hole in a giant tree?" Carth asked idly.

"Does it matter?" Jolee asked, curious.

"No, just wondering what the correct term would be," the captain shrugged.

Jolee shook his head, and regarded the _cave_ mouth.

"Freyyr?" he called.

Something stirred in the back of the cave, and with a snarl, a wookiee surged out of the cave, carrying a truly massive sword.

_((More of you Czerka core-rats? Is even the heart of Kashyyyk not free from your kind?_ _For years I have hid, hoping to someday free my world! I swear you will not take me! I swear!))_ the wookiee howled. He was larger even than Zaalbar.

"He is almost feral after all this time," Jolee muttered. "Calm yourself, Freyyr. We are friends. Don't you remember me?" the man said, lowering his hood.

Freyyr sniffed at the air, _((After years in the Shadowlands, I remember only that outsiders are not to be trusted! I'll see you dead!))_

"Well, this may prove difficult," Jolee said apprehensively, ducking away from the massive sword that split the air his head had occupied a moment before.

Bastila slammed the wookiee into the tree with the Force, pinning him there. The great warrior strained against her power, but Juhani lent her strength as well. All the wookiee succeeded in doing was tiring himself out and roaring until his voice was hoarse.

The wookiee's head sagged to his massive chest, _((I am beaten. Take my head, Czerka filth. You won't get another chance. So swears Freyyr of Kashyyyk.))_

"So much _drama_," Mission complained.

The name made a connection in Kyle's head. _Freyyr… as in Zaalbar's father?_

"Do you know Zaalbar and Chuundar?" Kyle demanded.

_((What? Those are my sons. Why do you speak their names? Tell me!))_ the wookiee strained against the invisible magics that bound him.

"My name is Bastila Shan. I came to Kashyyyk with Zaalbar," the Jedi explained.

_((To my shame, Zaalbar was exiled and enslaved. Do you dare claim to be my son's owner, outsider?))_

"No, he follows because he is our friend," Mission said firmly.

Some of the hate left the old wookiee's eyes, _((Does he? Then he sees something of worth in you. I will listen... cautiously. Gullibility has harmed me in the past. If I had seen the lies of Chuundar, he would have been exposed as a slaver. Zaalbar would not have been exiled...))_ Freyyr lamented.

"Why didn't you believe Zaalbar?" Bastila asked, listening to HK's translation.

_((I believed the elder boy, as tradition dictated. The shame of Zaalbar's attack blinded me))_ Freyyr sighed.

"Tell me what happened with Zaalbar," Bastila said.

Freyyr nodded, _((Zaalbar saw it first. He learned that Chuundar was dealing with the Czerka, leading them to our hunting parties. Chuundar would blame disappearances on the dangers of the Shadowlands. Zaalbar was crazed when he found out. He attacked Chuundar with his claws. I thought he had gone mad... shed his honor. I was bound by the old ways...))_ Bastila had never seen a wookiee shed tears before. It was a humbling sight.

"When did you learn the truth?" Carth asked gently.

_((A year later. By then, Chuundar had spread lies of my own madness. I had no allies when I confronted him. He and his Czerka guards attacked me. I had to retreat to the deepest Shadowlands, but even there they followed))_

Jolee nodded, "That's when I first saw him. I helped his pursuers lose him for a moment. Do you remember me now, Freyyr?"

The big wookiee cocked his head, _((Yes, I think I do. I am sorry for attacking. It's been so long since I have offered my trust, or accepted that of someone else))_

Bastila nodded to Juhani, and both Jedi released the wookiee, who cautiously straightened, but did not attack.

"Why would Chuundar want you dead now?"

_((If Zaalbar has returned, perhaps Chuundar is worried the people will realize things are not as they seem))_ Freyyr said thoughtfully, _((If it was shown that he conspired with the slavers, his honor would be gone. I wonder...))_

"Do you have any suggestions?" Bastila asked.

_((There is a way I might challenge Chuundar, but it would take a lot to convince my people they have been lied to))_

"How? Everyone is on his side," Mission said flatly.

Freyyr nodded, _((He has a strong web of lies, but if I appeal to the traditions of my people, I might be able to gather support. There is a legend of a great warrior from the old times. Bacca was his name, and he is greatly revered. Bacca found a crashed starship, our first hint of life elsewhere. He was a cautious old wook, and feared the taint of invaders. He constructed a sword from the wreckage. It has long symbolized our independence. Only destined leaders have held it))_

"A scavenger hunt for some sword? You can't be serious," Canderous said, exasperated.

_((I'm afraid not. It was the symbol of our great chieftains for centuries, but it was damaged a generation ago in ritual battle. Here in the Shadowlands Rothrrrawr fought the Great Beast. He sought a challenge, but this arrogance got him more than he could handle. He survived, but the blade of the sword stayed in the creature's hide. Our tales say it was taken because we had become undeserving. The hilt is still in the court of our chieftain... with Chuundar. If the blade could be found, tradition could cast doubt on his rule))_

"Where could we find this creature?"

_((I will show you))_ Freyyr promised, retrieving his sword from the dirt.

((()))

"I don't like this plan," Carth said.

"You could always go home, sir," Kyle suggested.

"So to get Zaalbar back, we're going to overthrow a regime twenty years in the making?" Carth asked skeptically.

"Would it make you feel better if I said I've already done it during the mandalorian wars?" Kyle asked.

"You have?" Carth asked, surprised.

"No," Kyle replied, "But if a lie makes you feel better… then I've done this _lots_ of times."

Carth grimaced at the commando in annoyance.

((()))

_((There))_ Freyyr said, pointing. It looked no different from anywhere else in the Shadowlands, except for a large flat stone, carved with wookiee pictographs.

_((If the Great Beast is to be lured out of hiding, it must be done here, using the old ways))_ Freyyr said.

"What exactly does that mean?" Bastila asked.

_((The flesh of a fresh kill would be tempting bait if displayed properly. We must find an appropriate beast of sufficient size to attract it))_ Freyyr said.

"I'll go drum something up," Jolee said, striding out of sight.

"Freyyr, describe this beast, please," Bastila said.

_((Many have tried to hunt this beast, but only a few who have seen it have lived to tell the tale. And none have ever managed to kill the creature. Many years ago, when I was far younger than I am now, a Jedi came to hunt the creature... a proud and boastful young male. Like many before him, he did not return. The beast is cunning. It will not appear if there is an overwhelming number waiting to slay it. But if you gather in small numbers, fresh blood will draw it out. Before Chuundar's rule put an end to the ritual, fresh kills were often left as offerings here))_ the wookiee said grimly.

"If we find this blade… do you still think yourself worthy to be chieftain?" Bastila probed.

Freyyr shook his head, _((No, I don't, but better me than Chuundar. He sells his own people for power. I must make things right… and I must think of what I will say to Zaalbar. I have wronged him. I hope he can forgive me))_

"Are you kidding?" Mission demanded.

Freyyr looked at her curiously, "Big Z was afraid you still believed Chuundar over him! Just go give him a real big wookiee hug!" Mission advised.

_((It does have a certain… simplicity))_ Freyyr said cautiously.

There was a rustling sound, and several weapons were aimed at the source.

Jolee came into view, hauling a medium sized lizard over his shoulder by the tail, similar to the ones that had hidden in the dirt.

"One katarn runt, as ordered," he chuckled, dropping it at Freyyr's feet.

_((Half of you must move away, or else the Great Beast will not challenge us))_ the wookiee said.

Bastila nodded, "Carth, Kyle, Mission, and HK," she said, gesturing.

"Keep the comlink open. If you need help, we'll come running," Kyle promised.

_((Two hundred meters should be sufficient))_ Freyyr decided.

"That puts us about a minute away," Kyle warned.

"We will try to survive for sixty seconds without you, sergeant," Bastila said humorously. Jolee handed his machete to Freyyr, who was amused by the small blade, but began to flay the katarn on the sacrificial stone. It only took a few minutes, and then the wookiee wiped off the machete, and returned it to Jolee.

_((Now, we wait))_ the exile said heavily, gripping his sword. The smell of breached entrails _was_ rather pungent. Bastila decided to breathe through her mouth.

((()))

"Query: have I proven unsatisfactory in some way, master?" HK asked, sounding wounded as he trudged through the trees.

"No."

"Then why have I been sent away?" he asked, stunned.

"Bastila has all of the Jedi in her group, _and_ our Mandalorian. Mission and Carth are lightly armed and armored. I'll need help keeping them safe," Kyle said, assuaging the mortified droid.

"Relieved statement: thank you master. I feared my performance had been subpar, no doubt due to that inept mechanic's tinkering."

"Also, we might get lost running back. You do remember the route… correct?" Carth observed.

"Proud statement: of course master, my topographical mapping subroutines are second only to dedicated cartographer models!"

"Well, I suppose its something for you to fall back on, if this killer-droid gig doesn't pan out," Mission muttered.

"Retort: I assure you, miniature master, that there will _always_ be meatbags that need killing," HK-47 said confidently.

((()))

Juhani smelled something foul… or sensed it… or both at once.

"Master?" she said nervously.

_((It's here))_ Freyyr growled, raising his heavy blade.

"I can't sense anything," Bastila said.

"Oh damn," Jolee gulped.

"What, old man?" Canderous demanded.

"It's a tarentatek," the old Jedi said.

"What's that?" Juhani asked.

"Exar Kun bred them with Sith Alchemy from rancors," Jolee explained quickly, "They're immune to the Force, and their hide is highly resistant to energy weapons. Their claws and fangs are also highly venomous,"

"Why would anyone make such a thing?" Juhani asked.

"To hunt and devour Jedi," Bastila realized heavily.

"Pretty much," Jolee agreed grimly.

_((We must wait for reinforcements until the Great Beast commits itself))_ Freyyr said darkly. Something growled thoughtfully out of sight. Bastila activated her lightsaber, but saw that Jolee had not; instead, he'd drawn his machete. The creature did not charge them. It stepped, almost politely, into view from where it had hidden. Beady red eyes stared at the Jedi hungrily, drool dripping from its serrated teeth.

"It looks like that Shape-shifter thing," Canderous observed.

Bastila hadn't seen the shape shifter, but this creature resembled a miniature rancor, only two and a half meters tall, instead of the average seven meters. Still… it was big, solidly built, and behind the hunger in its eyes was a chilling sense of intelligence.

Canderous touched his helmet, clearly in a private comlink transmission, which likely consisted of Kyle's group returning _now_, and several colorful mandalorian invectives.

Its gaze darted among the group, then focused on Juhani… or rather, where she had been a few moments ago. It inhaled, curious.

The scent remained, but it heard nothing, saw nothing. It had dealt with things that could not be seen before, however. Its clawed hand slapped the dirt, throwing a cloud of detritus at the place the Jedi should have been, and for a brief second, saw an outline where the dirt hit something solid. _Then _it pounced.

((()))

Kyle sprinted through the forest, following HK, who was clearly pacing itself to the slower meatbags following it. He could hear shouting, and the crackle of lightsabers ahead, even over the pounding of his boots and sharp breaths. By unspoken agreement, Carth and Mission were following at a slower pace, to give Kyle and the combat droid time to properly engage the enemy, while they held back, to take potshots.

Kyle didn't hear _ord'ika_'s throaty staccato, which meant Canderous was either down, his prized weapon was damaged, or he was using a different tool of murder and mayhem. Kyle sincerely hoped it was the last option.

He barreled into the clearing, and saw a large beast, similar to the shape-shifter, throw Jolee through the air like a doll, the man's machete plunged to the hilt in its throat.

Canderous was lying in the dirt nearby, his back bent at an impossible angle, _ord'ika_ squeezed to scrap beside him.

"Terentatek's left side is blind!" Bastila shouted, harassing the beast's flank, opening up an angle for her apprentice to dart past, scoring its hide with painful, but only superficial burns.

Bastila though, was not so lucky. With a howl of victory, the beast grabbed the woman in one hand and squeezed.

((()))

Kyle felt a rushing sensation and staggered slightly.

Bastila nodded, "Carth, Kyle, Mission, and HK," she said, gesturing.

"No," Kyle whispered, his head pounding.

"What?" Bastila asked, surprised, before horror and terror rebounded into her through the Force Bond. She clamped down, shutting herself off.

"No," Kyle said, falling to his knees, taking short, shallow breaths through the pain in his head.

Jolee stared at the trooper curiously.

"No… _what?_" Jolee asked.

"Something happened…" Kyle whispered. He looked at his trembling hands, unable to steady them. Bastila gently took his armored hands, trapping them between her own. She could feel Kyle's confusion and shock through their Bond.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

"I… I saw you die," he whispered.

"A vision?" Bastila asked.

"I-I don't know. It felt like I was actually there…" Kyle said, shaken.

"Let me in," Bastila whispered. Kyle nodded, and Bastila slipped into his mind. She caught flashes of what he had seen, things that had not yet happened. Over and over, she saw a large creature lift her into the air, and… well, it wasn't pleasant. Kyle's mind couldn't absorb what it had seen, and was trying to reject it, suppress it, _anything_.

Bastila disengaged from the man's mind, and looked to Jolee.

"Don't start the ritual," she snapped at Freyyr, who paused in mid-motion.

Then she looked at Jolee, "We have a problem."

"It's a terentatek," Kyle whispered, but Jolee heard him.

"Where did you hear that name, boy?" Jolee demanded.

The kneeling man pointed at Bastila, "From you… seven minutes from now."

"If this Great Beast is indeed such a creature…" Jolee murmured, tugging at his beard in contemplation.

"Do you have knowledge of these creatures?" Bastila asked.

"I killed one, once," the old man said, gesturing to his clothing.

"What can you tell us about them?" Bastila asked.

"Well… they've got lots of teeth, and really bad breath," the man mused.

"Anything else?"

"I do recall they have an immunity to the Force, and my lightsaber wasn't too effective against its hide…" the man admitted.

"How is that even possible?" Juhani asked. To be immune to the Force?

"I don't know, you'd have to ask Exar Kun, he made the damned things," Jolee shrugged.

"From what?"

"Rancors I think, but they're stunted, only three meters high," Jolee said.

"Anything else?"

"Hmm…. Well, their claws and teeth are poisonous… but I think that's all…" Jolee decided.

"How did you kill it?" Kyle demanded, regaining some of his composure.

"I dropped a really big rock on it," Jolee chuckled… though his grin died after a finished his thought, _"repeatedly."_

((()))

Canderous frowned at Carth, but his helmet hid the expression, "So the commando's having visions now?" he asked. The captain shrugged. "Are _all_ commandos force sensitive?" Canderous continued thoughtfully.

"I don't know," Carth snapped, continuing to stand guard.

"Perhaps commandos are washed out _jettai_…" Ordo mused. It would go far in explaining why they were so hard to kill.

((()))

Jolee looked over at Bastila, "You ready on your end?" he asked. She nodded, and tugged the vines for good measure. "This had better work," Kyle sighed.

Freyyr carved up the katarn, and presented it on the sacrificial stone. Kyle kept pinching himself, unsure if he was really _now_, this time, or about to see Bastila die again somehow. The plan was sound, and neatly circumvented the terantatek's direct immunity to the Force. It relied however, on the beast's legendary thirst for the blood of Force Users… and all had agreed that Kyle had possibly the most potent aura of any in the group… even if he couldn't tap it. So Kyle was the bait, and stood, his fingers clutching tightly to the lightsaber in his hand, which had once served a woman of hate and rage… and failed to protect that master. Would it fail him as well? Freyyr stood beside him, but the other Jedi had taken up positions above them.

Kyle smelled something, even through the olfactory filter of his helmet, reminding him of his vision.

_((The beast is close))_

Kyle ignited the lightsaber, which caused a temporary corona on his IR filter, before the sensor compensated, clearing the image back up.

The Terentatek stepped into view, appraising him coldly.

He spun the lightsaber angrily, "_Come on!_" he jeered, fear and impatience fighting for equal dominance. Either the plan would work, or it wouldn't. This waiting would achieve nothing… but the creature did not approach. The earth had been recently disturbed. The beast remembered pain that came from the ground, fiery, bright pain, like thunder.

The sweet blood sang to him from across the broken earth, taunting him… but the beast had not survived thousands of battles by being stupid. It was a patient killer. Many of its brethren had not learned this lesson. Coincidently, they were all dead, slain in traps set by the sweet bloods. The sweet blood took a step forward, still making meaningless noises, waving its sunbeam. With interest, the beast noticed that the sweet blood's foot had come down on a patch of torn earth.

No thunder.

It looked up at the sweet blood, and it could _taste_ its fear, but it did not retreat. Sweet bloods _never_ retreated. Until it was too late to escape.

((()))

Whatever he had done, the beast was now moving towards him with casual grace, knowing it could run him down in the thick foliage. Kyle brought the lightsaber to a high guard. The stance had been intended to be used with a training vibro-sword, which was shorter than a lightsaber, by twenty centimeters. Even more awkward, all of a lightsaber's inertia came from the hilt, since the energy beam was weightless.

But under the circumstances, Kyle had little choice. He had to get the beast to close with him… or else Bastila would die again. Kyle felt beneath his fear, another presence at his back. He recognized Bastila's touch, and took a deep breath, falling into his training. When he opened his eyes, the fear was no longer choking him, it had been focused into a knife edge of hyper awareness.

Beside him, Freyyr rumbled a warning, either to him, or the beast, the commando did not know, could not look away, or divide his attention to interpret the language.

Then the monster struck, and Kyle had no time to think, no time to plan. He vaguely perceived massive strength and speed as his lightsaber moved of its own volition, deflecting the strength of the blows at slight trajectories, just enough to miss. He didn't know how long this continued, until he simply wasn't fast enough… but he'd been slowly retreating, leading the creature deeper into the place where it would die.

The beast hit Kyle's chest in a mighty backhand, throwing him through the air, to crash into a tree with terrible force…

((()))

"Jolee!" Bastila barked, and the wizened Jedi Knight nodded grimly. Kyle hadn't gotten the creature into position… so plan B. The abomination looked up, scenting their blood, momentarily distracted from the crumpled form. Jolee pointed at the monster, and from the darkness, dozens of predators swarmed, at his command. It was actually quite easy, requiring only two illusions within their simple minds: that they were ravenously, mindlessly wracked with hunger… and that the terentatek was _food_. He didn't have to coddle them, or tell them how to attack, they did that themselves.

Within moments, the beast disappeared beneath a wave of snapping teeth and sharp claws. For a moment, it looked like the battle was over… but such a creature could not be undone so easily. With a roar, the terentatek reared, its powerful claws sending katarn lizards and kinrath spiders flying like toys, but it was bleeding… and kinrath were venomous. Some of the thrown animals did not stir, but most were not seriously harmed, and simply threw themselves back at the monster with desperate energy.

Freyyr risked the melee to carry the limp commando out of the fracas, and to a safe distance.

It wouldn't be enough, Jolee realized. The terentatek was staggering drunkenly, missing large chunks of hide, but whatever havoc the poison was doing to it, didn't hamper it from killing. Most of the predators were curling into balls, as the beast's _own_ poison brought them low. Damned venom…

But the terentatek was now _right_ where they wanted it.

"Bastila, it's in position!" Jolee shouted. He released his hold on the predators, which promptly came to their senses, and the four or five still fighting fled.

Jolee grabbed the loosened tap roots in the earth, and twined them around the monster's massive ankles, _literally _rooting it in place. The beast howled, but before it could use its claws to shred the strong roots, several braided vines whipped down from above, lashing around its powerful wrists, considering how massive its clawed hands were, there was no chance of the vines slipping.

The terentatek did not understand. What was this? It had never encountered such a foe. One of the sour bloods approached, covered in hair, holding a cold claw in its hands. It howled, and the cold claw rose… and in a spurt of green blood, the creature that had devoured thousands of foes died.

Freyyr stood, staring at the beast as he panted. He had done it. With the power of the off-worlder magic, he had triumphed. Freyyr moved behind the suspended, headless corpse, and searched its back, for the tale of old claimed that the blade still lay where it had struck. It took the exiled wookiee several minutes to locate _the_ injury, against the hundreds of healed scars and ridges. Holding his breath, Freyyr dug at the thick, puckered flesh, until he could get a grip on the object, and with a tug worthy of any mighty wookiee, he plucked the blade from its gruesome sheathe. Flesh had healed around the blade, clinging and adhering to it, Freyyr could not tell _what_ kind of blade it was.

Fear and pain hit Bastila like a wave. Kyle was conscious. She hurried to his side, "Sergeant, what's wrong?" she demanded.

His chest rose in shallow gasps, and he dug his armored fingers into the dirt on either side of him.

"Legs. Can't… feel… them," he panted.

((()))

"Allow me," Jolee said, waving his hand. The flesh unrolled, falling off the blade, revealing the glyphs and pictographs on a suddenly spotless blade.

"Jolee!" Bastila barked, gesturing frantically.

"Keep your robes on," Jolee muttered darkly.

"Kyle's injured."

_((This is the blade of Bacca… It may not look like much... but it is a very important relic of my people. Tradition dictates that it be respected. I didn't think I was worthy to search for it, but I realize that was selfish despair. I should have challenged Chuundar long ago._ _I will make amends now. I have new hope. You have led me to this. Perhaps that is what the Great Beast wanted)) _Freyyr said, awestruck, unaware of the drama unfolding behind him. More of the outsiders arrived, and dimly, he realized that they were distressed.

Jolee frowned at the injured man, and with a flick of his hand, put the man to sleep, easing his pain.

"Alright… lets see what we've got here," the old man murmured into his beard, running his senses over the commando.

"Hmm… well, the beast broke his back… but the spinal cord's not actually cut… just pinched like hell," he chuckled. With subtle application of telekinesis, he pulled the bones back into proper alignment, and forced the leaking fluids back into their proper locations, healing most of the damage… but the bone would take longer to heal… something requiring real medical supplies. A bone stabilizer would be handy.

"You have a ship?" he asked Carth.

"Yes," Onasi nodded.

"Any of you know how to handle a real med kit?" Jolee continued. The _mandalorian_ raised his hand tentatively.

((()))

Gorwooken stared at the group when he reached the bottom, and halted the lift.

_((Madclaw!))_ the wookiee warrior snarled, raising his bowcaster. But Jolee raised a hand, "Now hold on there just a moment."

_((I should hold on just a moment…))_ Gorwooken realized.

"Show him, Freyyr," Jolee prodded.

The exile proudly held up the blade in his hands, and Jolee released the warrior's mind.

_((That… that is not possible…))_ Gorwooken said, stunned.

_((I possess the blade of Bacca. Will you oppose me?))_ Freyyr demanded.

_((I… Chuundar is the chieftain… I cannot betray him)) _Gorwooken stammered.

_((I did not ask you to aid me. I simply asked if you would oppose me)) _Freyyr repeated.

_((I do not understand the difference…))_

_((I possess the Blade of Bacca, Chuundar holds the hilt. A trial must be held, to see whom is worthy to lead our people))_ Freyyr explained.

Gorwooken nodded in understanding, _((I will convey you to your trial))_ he promised.

((()))

Bastila watched Kyle as he was borne away on the rudimentary wooden stretcher by a combat droid and a Republic captain. Canderous paced ahead of the group, an obvious protector and deterrent. She suppressed her anxiety, and worry for Kyle, instead focusing on the coming conflict.

Chuundar would not simply bow to Freyyr's newfound authority.

Chuundar would fight.

And he would not fight honorably. As they walked the long road to Rwookrrorro, other wookiees caught sight of them, and upon seeing what Freyyr held in his hands, they silently followed. By the time the sprawling wookiee village came into sight, almost forty of the towering creatures had joined their group. With every step, more came, but soon, the warriors simply stood by and watched, as the exiled chieftain walked through the winding streets of the village, for there was no room to follow the exile.

Freyyr reached the great hall, and roared his challenge, _((By the blade of Bacca's sword, I've come to end your treachery, Chuundar! No more will you sell your own people!))_

A dead silence fell over the entire village, as all held their breath, so that they could hear the reply.

Finally, after five minutes of silence, a lone wookiee appeared from the entrance. It was Chuundar. Bastila swallowed… this would be bad. She could feel his black thoughts and darker intentions.

_((You have Bacca's blade? I have the hilt, held by each true Chieftain in recent memory!))_ Chuundar roared, flourishing the hilt above his head, much as Freyyr was doing with the blade.

They stood as such, glaring across the short span between them at each other.

_((We both have our ancient symbols of authority, so who will the people follow now? You? You are old and weak!))_ Chuundar accused, his words like poisoned honey.

_((This ends today! I will not see Rwookrrorro suffer any more!))_ Freyyr roared.

_((I declare Zaalbar as arbitrator!)) _Chuundar retorted.

Freyyr fell silent, stunned.

_((Do you agree to such, madclaw?))_ Chuundar goaded.

_((I agree to your terms))_ Freyyr said gravely.

Chuundar beckoned angrily, and another wookiee emerged from the hall.

"Zaalbar!" Mission shouted, waving. The wookiee saw her, and nodded, walking between the two quarreling parties as if they were nothing, ignoring them. He was the arbitrator, they must wait until he was ready.

"Are you okay Big Z?" Mission asked, worried, moving his arms, checking for injuries.

_((I… I am unhurt, Mission))_ Zaalbar rumbled.

"Okay, that's good," Mission said brightly.

Even Bastila could sense the wookiee's inner turmoil, however.

"What's wrong then, Big Z?" Mission whispered.

_((I... I don't know what to do, Mission, Chuundar has been telling me things... he makes sense... I think. I don't know))_ Zaalbar said, miserable.

"You can't trust Chuundar. He's a slaver," Mission pointed out.

_((But…))_ Zaalbar said, before Mission cut him off, "Freyyr is the honorable one."

_((Of course. You are right))_ Zaalbar realized.

Bastila was listening to Jolee's translation, and she interrupted, "Must you fight? Can no peaceful solution be reached?" she demanded.

Zaalbar nodded slowly, _((Could they work together? It would be difficult...))_

"Convince them!" Bastila said firmly, "Avoid this needless bloodshed."

_((Then so be it! The fighting stops here! I will not have our world destroyed beneath you two!))_

"Go Big Z!" Mission cheered.

Freyyr cocked his head, and looked at his eldest son, _((Perhaps there is hope. What say you, Chuundar?))_

_((What do I say? You're too weak to fight, old wook, and I still have Czerka support! We'll see who dies today!))_ Chuundar snarled, and from the main hall, Czerka guards lunged, and opened fire on Freyyr.

Fortunately, the Jedi had foreseen this. With a snapping roar, three lightsabers flared to life at once, and intercepted the blaster fire, redirecting it at the shooters, protecting the crowd (which did not go unnoticed).

_((Then there is no other way. Chuundar! You have betrayed our people! You must pay!))_ Zaalbar growled.

Chuundar realized he had made a mistake. None of his allies stepped to his side after the Czerka had been killed so swiftly.

Freyyr handed the blade of Bacca to Zaalbar, and drew his own weathered sword.

_((Come, son. Let this be decided as it has been for centuries))_ Freyyr growled.

_((As you wish!))_ Chuundar roared, drawing a wookiee sized sword of his own… but with a flick, Bastila realized it to be a vibro-sword… and Freyyr's blade was mere steel. The smaller wookiee charged at his father, who instinctively blocked… and in the process, lost half of his two meter blade and acquired a long gash along his chest, which was only skin deep. The combatants broke apart, and circled each other. Chuundar sneered confidently, but Freyyr's expression did not waver from its cold ferocity. He did not fear death. He had died nineteen years ago…

Chuundar drove straight at him, and aimed to slice the bigger wookiee in half from left shoulder to right hip. There was a ring of steel on steel as Freyyr slapped the weapon away with his own, flat on flat, avoiding the hyper-keen edge of the vibro-sword.

Chuundar staggered, and Freyyr stepped back, gaining a meter of space, and waited calmly.

Again and again Chuundar strove to kill his father.

Each time he failed. Old steel proved a match for the latest Czerka steel… and Bastila realized what Freyyr was playing at, understanding his intentions and thoughts. The entire duel was symbolic. His culture and race were defined by _symbolism_. He had made a _mistake_ in letting Chuundar, with his _Czerka_ weapon injure him, and damage his _Wookiee_ blade. But no matter how many times _Czerka_ struck at him, they were repulsed… and they would continue to be repulsed. The duel dragged on for nearly an hour, both combatants were panting, but Chuundar's limbs trembled with exertion. He had not been scrambling to survive in the Shadow lands for the last twenty years. He had been lounging in a throne, letting others fight his battles.

And it showed.

At the end, Chuundar saw what awaited him… and he committed the most unforgivable sin of any warrior. He dropped his weapon, and pleaded for mercy… but there was no mercy to give. It had been offered, and rejected before. It could not be offered again.

Freyyr raised his half-sword, high, _((For Kashyyyk!))_

Freyyr turned his back on what had once been his son, as its blood seeped through the mesh of interwoven branches that created the ground they stood upon.

_((I am saddened that it had to come to this, but I couldn't let it continue))_ Freyyr lamented. He looked up, and locked gazes with his true son.

_((Zaalbar, my son. I am truly sorry. You have suffered a great shame, and I was blind. I have no excuse))_ Freyyr said.

"Wookiee hug!" Mission called out, startling a few wookiees.

To Bastila's surprise, they actually did hug, but Bastila doubted a human would have survived the experience, _((I can forgive, father. I have learned a lot over the years))_ Zaalbar said thickly.

They regarded each other at arms length.

_((Returning home has lifted a great weight from my mind... but it has been painful as well))_ Zaalbar said.

Freyyr nodded, _((You have a place by my side, Zaalbar. I would be honored if you would take it))_

Zaalbar hung his head, _((I... I can't. Not yet. I'm just getting used to being free... and not just from the slavers)) _

Freyyr laughed, _((Listen to my son! His insight humbles me. Take that good judgment with you and all the planets will come to revere Wookiee wisdom))_

"Freyyr, what about the slavers?" Jolee asked.

_((We will fight them. It will be difficult, but I swear they won't take another one of my people without bloodshed. I'll send quick-climbers to other villages and try to rally a defense. We must guard against this ever happening again. You will be the last outsider welcome here for a very long time. That is a change for the better, I think))_ Freyyr said grimly.

"Then I think it time we were leaving," Jolee chuckled.

_((Before you depart, I must see to your reward. You have all done us a great service. Kashyyyk will remember you well past your lifetime. Because of you, I am reinstated as Chieftain. We will return to the old ways, when honor and trust of kin ruled above all else. I'm not sure there is a reward that accurately reflects the value of what you have done. Our world is changed because of you)) _Freyyr said.

_((I have a request, father. I would like Bacca's Hilt)) _Zaalbar said hesitantly.

Freyyr gazed at his son long and hard, before slowly nodding, _((I am tempted to say no but... perhaps I should consider it an investment. It is the legacy of our people, held by chieftains... and future chieftains))_

Zaalbar nodded, _((I understand. I want this, father. I'll bring it back one day))_

Freyyr took the hilt and the blade of Bacca's sword, and thrust them into the air, _((I have no doubt. My son shall hold Bacca's Hilt… and on the day of his return, let the two halves of the blade be made one!))_

The following roar forced the non-wookiees to cover their ears… lest their head's explode.

((()))

T3-M4 squealed something, and almost ran over Carth, pursuing something small, and vermin-like. With a rude noise, his concealed blaster popped up from its housing and fired, frying the creature. The droid scolded the twitching husk, and vindictively crushed it under a wheel.

"What's gotten into you?"

The droid babbled back at him, and its disk shaped head spun to look behind it, spotting another gizka, and letting out a squeal of frustration, opened fire. Carth rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Gizka. The little pests liked to eat the insulation off wiring of _any_ kind… and despite being only ten centimeters in height… they could reproduce at such a prodigious rate… Carth sighed, drew his pistol, "Fine… T3, take the floor, I'll clear out the overhead maintenance ducts…"

The comlink on Carth's belt chirped, and he paused, activating it, "Carth," he said.

"Carth, this is Bastila, secure the ship, the wookiees are about to attack the Czerka spaceport," Bastila said quickly. _I guess it's a good thing I already sold the Gizka, and the Corellian Whiskey then… and took on that shipment of actual foodstuffs…_

"Should I arm weapons?" Carth asked reluctantly.

"No. They're freeing themselves from the slavers," Bastila replied.

"May be take off? Come back afterwards?" Carth suggested.

"No… but you could raise the shields…"

((()))

Kyle woke up, and realized he couldn't move. He must have made a sound, because Canderous looked over, from where he was using the bone stabilizer to fuse the properly set vertebra into a single bone once more. It was slow going, but most injures to bones were. _"Udesii, ner vod," ((take it easy, friend/brother/comrade))_ Ordo grumbled, peering at the medical scanner as he worked.

"How bad?" Kyle asked, afraid of the answer.

"Your spine was broken," Canderous said.

"Why can't I move?" Kyle asked, terrified.

"Neural block," Ordo grunted, "Didn't want you moving while I fixed your back."

"Was anyone else hurt?" Kyle whispered. He could feel Bastila in the back of his mind, but the rest were a mystery.

"No, just you," Canderous chuckled.

((()))

Zaalbar ducked against the cargo crate as blaster bolts slapped into the durable metal. He crouched, and swung out of cover, releasing a quarrel at the Czerka guard, which hit dead center, piercing his combat vest, killing the twi'lek. A wookiee dropped from overhead, snatched up the blaster rifle, and the ex-slaves pressed forward. For every slaver to fall, another weapon changed hands.

They had captured half of the landing bays, herding prisoners against the wall, and releasing the enslaved wookiees within the transports, swelling their numbers.

For the guards, however, there was no mercy. On the front line, a man with a green lightsaber, his face concealed by his hood, pressed the wookiee's advantage, knocking Czerka blaster fire back at the shooters…

The Czerka had fallen back to one of their transport ships, which had not yet been loaded with slaves. While the guards tried to hold the entrance, officers and executives scrambled for the slave transport. The guards began to fall back towards the transport, but the loading ramp rose, and the terrified pilot took off, leaving the guards behind, fleeing for the atmosphere.

"Let them go," Jolee chuckled. That transport hadn't been loaded… because it was undergoing repairs. If the cowardly leaders survived the hyperspace journey, they would have a tale to tell… of a bloody uprising… and a loss of profits. The stranded guards had already dropped their weapons, and raised their hands.

_((Assemble the prisoners!))_ Freyyr roared.

All told, the docking bay was filled with perhaps three hundred Czerka employees. Most of them wore technician uniforms. A few wore armor, and some were only half-dressed.

_((Hairless One, I would be honored if you translated for me))_ Freyyr said.

"Sure, sure, just get on with it," Jolee chuckled, standing next to his friend.

_((Your masters have abandoned you. I offer you a choice. You can die… or you can work. You will be like slaves, until the debt you owe Kashyyyk is repaid, and may depart freely. Those that wish death, remain standing. Those who wish servitude, kneel))_ Freyyr said calmly. Jolee translated, mostly, word for word. (He added a few colorful invectives to help convey how much the wookiees _didn't_ like them)

Unsurprisingly, everyone knelt, except for one man, whose leg was injured, and he simply slumped.

_((Very well))_ Freyyr said. He gestured to his warriors, and the wounded, both wookiee and alien, were carried off to hasty triage stations. The Czerka had bent their knee, and thus, were now under the wookiee's authority… and their protection.

"What do you plan to do with them?" Jolee asked.

_((They will work, as they forced us to work))_ Freyyr said, satisfied.

"You know they'll be back."

_((I know, friend, but we will be ready. I will distribute these weapons among the other villages, and we will arm Czerka's metal sky ships with weapons, to protect us…))_ the chieftain said, his eyes already distant, as he planned the defense of not just his village, but his _planet_.

When Czerka returned, they would find a unified planet waiting, no longer divided by Chuundar's treachery.

"You don't really need to beat the bastards… just make it too expensive to continue business…" Jolee agreed darkly.

((()))

Bastila found Kyle in the med bay, lying on the bio bed, stripped to the waist.

"Commander. I'd salute, but… I can't seem to move at the moment," Kyle said stiffly.

"I am glad you survived," Bastila said gravely.

"So am I," Kyle grunted. Bastila smiled faintly, and after a moment, came to sit at the edge of the bio-bed. Kyle focused on the faint feeling at the back of his head, and thought he felt… a question.

"Ask," Kyle said.

"How did you know…?" Bastila said, startled.

"Good guesser," Kyle suggested.

"I need your help," she said, pulling the holocron from her belt, crouching down so that he could see it.

She stroked the cube, and a short figure appeared from it.

"Greetings. I am the guardian of this repository, how may I be of assistance?"

"Isn't that the holographic interface?" Kyle asked.

"Yes. When I copied the data, it copied _everything_," Bastila said.

"Good. Now we have an interface to sort and categorize the information," Kyle said.

"Except… it refuses to speak to me," Bastila sighed.

"Oh…" Kyle said.

"Holocron, am I still an authorized user?"

"Affirmative," the ten centimeter Overseer answered.

"Can I transfer my clearance to this woman?" Kyle asked.

The construct tilted its head, apparently in thought.

"It has not been done before… but there is no protocol prohibiting it…"

"Then do it," Kyle said.

"Very well," the guardian nodded. It looked at Bastila, "Greetings. I am the guardian of this repository, how may I be of assistance?"

"Thank you, Kyle," Bastila said, distracted, as she left the medbay.

"Now, that's not exactly the _best_ bedside manner I've seen…" Jolee said, strolling into the med bay.

"What are you doing in here?" Kyle asked, unable to turn his head to look at the man.

"Well, your commander seems to think I'm a better medic than your tame mandalorian," Jolee said, opening cabinets, and examining the contents.

"He's not tame," Kyle snapped, "and he knows a thing or two about battlefield medicine."

"Sure, sure. You must have driven your mother mad. All that gurgling and fussing... heh, babies are cute, but annoying," Jolee said, distracted, not really paying attention to the commando.

"How long am I going to lie here?" Kyle demanded. Kyle barely knew anything about _Jolee_. Certainly not enough to feel comfortable, as he lay helpless on a biobed.

"Hmm…" Jolee said, peering intently at a labeled vial.

"Doc, can you get the neural block off my neck, please?" Kyle said, loudly enough to break through the old man's private thoughts.

"Fine, if it'll earn me some quiet from your yammering," Jolee muttered, casting out his senses towards the commando.

"Hmm… well, the mandalorian performed adequately…" Jolee held out his hand, and the neural block deactivated, jumping into his hand. Jolee stashed it in a drawer, and went back to his labeled vial.

"Can I go now?" Kyle asked, cautiously sitting up.

"Yes, yes. No strenuous activity for a week," Jolee said, pulling out a datapad and paging through the manifest.

Kyle nodded, and carefully left the medbay, heading for the cockpit. He checked with Carth, who showed him the nav chart data. Their next destination was Manaan. That was at least two days away.

Besides, when doctors said eight, they really meant _four…_

((()))

Mission frowned. Looking for Juhani on the ship had become something of a hobby for her. She understood that Juhani was older than her, and probably all Jedi-ish, like Bastila, but this was getting ridiculous. _I mean, how hard is it to have a little girl-to-girl discussion about boys and how stupid adults are? _Mission suspected that Juhani was avoiding her… and since the Cathar could turn frelling _invisible_… well, that just made the challenge interesting. The only times Mission saw Juhani, was when _other_ people were around.

Except for Canderous. Mission didn't know anything about Juhani. She knew almost _everything _about the others, although Canderous's stories had a repetitive theme of _and then we conquered blah-blah-blah, slaughtered them all, blah-blah, glorious this, glorious that, conquest, kill, blood!_ Mission suspected chest pounding and war chanting would have followed, if there had been more than one mandalorian in the room. Now, Mission thought Canderous was okay, for an adult, he never told her she was too young to do this, or that, like Carth sometimes did, but Mission thought his _tales_ were a bit stale… and depressing.


	12. Chapter 12: Depths

It was a disaster. A complete _unmitigated _disaster.

"What do you mean you were unable to retrieve the droid?" Roland Wann, Republic Representative to Manaan demanded.

"I mean, sir, the Sith beat us here. If the Selkath hadn't tied us up in customs…"

"I don't want excuses. Get me that droid," Roland snarled, interrupting the soldier on the comlink.

"Are you authorizing military force, in full view of the selkath?" the soldier asked.

_Well… no… especially not with so many soldiers MIA… _

"No…" Roland hesitated.

"Then we can't get the droid. Sir," the marine said coolly, disconnecting the link.

Roland wavered and hesitated for several minutes, before he tapped in a memorized code… and waited for a response. It was his only course of action left…

((()))

"Glad to see you up, _ner vod_," Canderous said, catching sight of Kyle.

Kyle held up a hand, silencing his friend, stripped down to his black body glove, clearly stalking something in the aft corridor. Slowly, the man raised a thin throwing knife, and with a flick of his wrist, impaled something inside an open access hatch. He reached in, and pulled out his knife, with a pair of gizka impaled on it, caught in the act of mating.

"_Gizka?_" Canderous said.

"Some Hutt tricked Mission into an exchange. One of the crates wasn't sealed properly, and the bastards escaped," Kyle grumbled.

"How many?" Canderous asked.

"Ninety, maybe a hundred," Kyle said.

Zaalbar walked by, and rumbled something to Kyle.

"No, sure," the commando said, offering the two dead vermin. The wookiee plucked them off the thin blade delicately, and popped them into his fanged mouth, chewing blissfully.

"I'll go check _ord'ika_," Canderous said darkly. The footlocker was secured, so the weapon _should_ be safe there…

"Oh, and watch out for Tee-three. He's a little… overzealous, in his extermination attempts," Kyle warned.

Low-level blaster fire echoed from the port cargo bay, and a frustrated utility droid squealed.

"I think the combat droid's rubbing off on him. Good," Canderous said.

((()))

Bastila questioned the holocron extensively, but even with the "clearance" she had gained from Kyle, the Overseer still refused to allow her access to some of its restored files. It had admitted to cross indexing the recovered data from Dantooine, Kashyyyk, and Tattooine into a single coherent data package, filling in corrupted sections with overlapping data… but in its estimation, only 37% of its original files had been restored. Much of the lost data was historical in origin. The hyperspace coordinates for the Star Forge were also incomplete as well, missing several crucial calculations. The glow from the small cube was almost exclusively yellow. Also, with the increased information, the Overseer had become more… intelligent. That was the only way Bastila could describe it.

((()))

Roland slumped in relief, _he actually came_, "We were using a reconnaissance droid in the ocean surrounding Ahto City. It took a data recording before being damaged by the firaxan sharks. Its automatic systems floated it to the surface, but we could not retrieve it in time."

"Why not?" the older man asked.

"The Sith were applying subtle pressure to the Selkath authorities for some reason we have not determined, and were able to delay us long enough that they could retrieve the droid before we did. The droid's data centers are heavily encrypted, so it will take the Sith several days, we believe, to get to its data. It was captured 12 hours ago. It is imperative that we get it back," the diplomat explained.

"What was recorded?" the spy asked suspiciously.

"Intelligence information about Sith activities on Manaan, as well as some oceanographic reports on the local marine life," the man replied. It was the truth… but not the _whole_ truth.

"Where is the droid now?" Sunry asked.

"It is heavily guarded, we are sure, in the Sith Embassy here on Manaan. Since we have no remaining soldiers to spare, and certainly not our elite ones, we have no one capable of entering the Sith base and retrieving it," the man said, nervous.

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" the spy demanded.

"We had the situation… contained," Roland said uncomfortably.

"Clearly not," the older man scoffed.

"I need this fixed, Sunry… it's _vital_ to the war effort. We can't afford to lose the kolto," Roland said fearfully.

Sunry wondered, again, how Roland had been promoted to so sensitive a posting. The man was an idiot. Sunry's comlink chirped, and the ex-soldier answered the familiar tone.

"Hello dear," Sunry smiled. His wife, Elora, was nearly twenty years his junior… and still a damned fine woman. Age had made her wiser, and more thoughtful, but sometimes Sunry missed the spitfire.

"If you've finished your business meeting, we're out of eggs. Could you pick some up on your way back?" Elora asked.

"Of course. We're almost done here," Sunry agreed.

Roland stared at him in confusion, but Sunry wasn't going to tell the idiot anything. Elora didn't know that after he'd been sidelined from active combat, he had still served his government… but in his new theater of war, enemies and allies were interchangeable, and blasters had been replaced with secrets… Sunry was good at it too. No one took a cripple seriously.

"I love you," Elora told him strangely, then disconnected the link. Sunry frowned at the comlink regretfully. Due to his odd hours and secretive meetings, Elora had begun to suspect he was seeing someone on the side. He didn't resent her for the assumption.

Because she was right. But he would pick up the eggs. _I love you too._

((()))

Mission hunted through the ship, until she found the _true_ geezer.

"Hey old man," Mission said, leaning against the door to the med bay.

"Got something on your mind, I see," Jolee said, fiddling with a medkit.

"Why'd you come with us?"

"You got yourself a fast little ship. Heh. I'd forgotten what engines sounded like. The closest thing to that on Kashyyyk is an uller in mating season. _Frightful,_" Jolee answered.

"So you're just hitching a ride?" Mission asked, unconvinced.

"Or it could be for the free food. What's the gunk that comes out of the synthesizer on this bucket, anyway? Do you never clean the darned thing?" Jolee said.

"No, really, you can tell me," Mission whispered conspiratorially.

"I'm old, damn it! I'm allowed to be enigmatic when I want to be, and don't you go telling me otherwise," Jolee scolded, waving a callused finger at her.

"You're avoiding the question," Mission said.

"So I am. Tell you what... when you get to be my age, you can go ahead and answer any question you like, too. You have my permission," Jolee said dismissively, shooing at her.

"Your ship was modified," Mission said, "it had concealed smuggling compartments," she said.

"My past is my affair. You don't see me poking and prodding you with questions, do you?" Jolee snapped.

"You're just not used to company. Stop being an old coot," Mission said sternly.

"Hmph. I might be. But a mouthy young thing like yourself shouldn't get to call me an old coot, dammit," Jolee growled, using the Force to flick some gauze pads at her.

"And besides... you don't really want to hear about me. We're talking ancient history, probably before you were born. History bores kids. _Proven fact_," Jolee said seriously.

"Yeah? Well old people love to talk about history. _Proven fact_," Mission shot back.

"Oh fine, fine, have it your way. Just don't cry about it later. Yes, yes, I was an adventurer. Happy now? I wasn't even done with my Jedi training back then. I had a full head of hair and an eagerness to see absolutely everything. The Council was never very happy with willful, brash Jolee, you see. Even less so when I began my smuggling career."

"_You _were a smuggler?" Mission asked.

"Don't look at me like that, dammit! I wasn't always the wrinkled coot I am now, you know. I can still fight, too, so wipe off that smirk I see there," Jolee glared pointedly.

Mission quickly covered her mouth, "How did that happen?"

"At the time the Ukatis system was interdicted by its own King. He preferred to keep his people starving and poor, all the better to oppress them. The Senate was trying to negotiate a peace, but they were getting nowhere as usual. I decided I wasn't going to wait. I found myself a ship and a partner and we began smuggling food and supplies to the Ukatis citizenry through the blockade," Jolee shrugged.

"When you say blockade, just how competent?" Mission asked.

"Oh, it was pretty tight for a third-rate dictator. I was a half-decent pilot in those days... and with the Force guiding me, we made it through some tough spots nobody else would have," Jolee answered.

"You were a pilot, too?" Mission asked.

"Pilot, smuggler... several other things, too. Or did you suppose I was always a crotchety hermit? Don't answer that," Jolee said, when Mission opened her mouth.

Instead, she asked, "Where did you get the credits for all the supplies?"

Jolee grinned mischievously, "Well... we didn't _buy_ all the equipment, per se. Some were happy to donate goods. Some we just, ah, knew had more than they could use..."

"You stole it?" Mission smirked.

"_Stole_ is such a harsh word. They would have donated those goods readily enough if they were compassionate. I considered it a tax on the greedy. We only got caught once. A lone Ukatish frigate shot us down and forced a crash landing," Jolee said, looking into the distance.

"So you got caught?" Mission prodded, getting the coot back on track.

"Well, as it happens, getting shot down turned out to be very fortunate. That day was the day I..." he trailed off.

"That was the day you _what?_" Mission asked.

"Well, that... that was the day I met my wife," Jolee admitted.

"You were _married?_" Mission asked, startled.

"You know another way to get a wife?" Jolee said, curious.

"So… was it a bad memory?" Mission asked.

"No. No, that was a good memory. There are just... much worse ones that followed," Jolee said sadly.

"I'm sorry," Mission said.

"It's alright. When you're digging through the trash, you shouldn't be surprised when you encounter something unpleasant," Jolee sighed, "I'm going to stop talking now. My mouth is starting to draw flies."

Mission nodded, and left the old man to his thoughts.

((()))

"Sunry… I see you just couldn't stay away…" the woman whispered, posing provocatively inside the hotel room. Elassa Huros was twenty years old, and the apprentice of the Sith Ambassador. She was not as clever as she thought, however. Her master protected the woman, because she was a tusk-cat between the sheets… but her control of the Force, and her skill with a lightsaber thankfully, were nowhere near as potent.

More importantly, Elassa was quite possibly the _most_ selfish creature Sunry had ever encountered… which made her perfect. Originally sent by her master to seduce Roland, and uncover republic secrets, her loyalties had… changed… when faced with the threat of failure, at Sunry's hand. He'd caught her sifting through Roland's files, and shot her. Non-fatally, of course, but when she woke up, she'd been in a very cooperative mood. Since that day, Sunry had molded her tirelessly into a useful tool of the Republic.

She was trustworthy too. Elassa valued no one more than herself, and loyalty was a matter of perception. Sunry gave her information to take to her master, in exchange for favors. This arrangement benefitted both of them greatly. Elassa, despite her weakness, was valued as a reliable source of information, which kept her safe, and elevated her status among the Sith. The favors to Sunry, by contrast, tended to make her rivals look like idiots… which tended to be _distinctly_ unhealthy for them.

"I need a favor," Sunry said, looking away from the naked woman. She was young enough to be his granddaughter.

"You know the rules… information and… _play_… _then_ work," Elassa said, her voice calculated to cause the air of the room to smolder. Sunry knew it wasn't the sex Elassa enjoyed. It was Sunry's self loathing and shame that accompanied it. It was about control, and hurting the things he loved.

Because Sunry loved Elora…

But the Republic had been his first love, long before he ever met his wife… the only medic crazy enough to brave the firestorm, and drag his half-dead body to the casevac transport.

Sunry bitterly reached for the buttons of his tunic. For the _damned_ Republic…

((()))

Bastila entered meditation as soon as she felt Kyle's mind slip into slumber. She was surprised to find the shadow waiting for her.

_We are heading for Manaan,_ Bastila told him. The shadow nodded.

_I assume there is a Star Map there,_ he replied easily, _Walk with me. _

The swirling mists of grey were not as dense, as if they were not as deep, or something.

_I have been organizing the memories for you,_ the shadow explained, sensing her unvoiced question.

_Why?_ Bastila wondered.

The shadow shrugged.

Unnerved, Bastila changed the subject, _it is strange that anyone would have built a Star Map there; the entire surface is covered by nothing but vast oceans._

The shadow suggested, _perhaps the land was not always covered in water…_

Bastila nodded, _it is possible. The melting of polar caps or a cataclysmic earthquake could have buried the land beneath the waves eons ago. Records from that time are incomplete._

The shadow touched her shoulder, halting her, and pointed. Around them, the mist thinned, and Bastila saw another Star Map… illuminated by hastily erected halo lamps, upon a sea floor. Vegetation gently drifted in the current, and a massive marine animal cruised by, partially illuminated by the lights, before the memory faded.

_It appears the Star Map is underwater,_ the shadow said grimly.

_The ocean floor is vast and much of it is uncharted, even by the native Selkath. How did you and Malak find your way down, _Bastila wondered.

The shadow shook his head, b_e careful_, he warned her sternly.

((()))

"I don't understand…" Elassa said, staring at the memory core in Sunry's hand. The spy sighed, "It's very simple. I need to get rid of Heager Tharn. He's been trying to get you killed, which threatens _my _interests. In addition, you need to get him removed without being implicated, otherwise your superiors might take a closer look at how you obtain your information," Sunry said smoothly.

"But how will _this_ accomplish _that_?" Elassa asked, genuinely confused. According to his sources, Elassa had been a record graduate of the Sith Academy. She held the record as the student with the lowest possible ranking that still gained her lightsaber. Sunry suspected she had warmed the sheets of several instructors and classmates.

"Heager used up a large amount of political clout with the Selkath government, in order to tie up the Republic salvage team in customs, long enough to seize the probe droid, convinced it held crucial information. Now, we _could_ do nothing. Once the code is cracked, and the Sith realize Heager traded the last two months of political maneuvering for the latest geological surveys and biological studies, he'll be disgraced, and humiliated… but there's a chance he might try again. We need to get him _killed_," Sunry said. Elassa nodded, enjoying the idea of Heager humbled.

"_This_ core has been altered, and one of the data files contains parts of an intercepted transmission between Roland, and Heager, which will implicate him as a double agent… and a sloppy one at that. I need you to swap out the cores, without anyone noticing. Do this right, and no one will dare try to sabotage you… for at least a few months, at any rate. They'll be too frightened," Sunry explained.

"What do I do with the useless core?" Elassa asked.

"It's too durable to discard or destroy easily. If anyone finds a trace of it, they might suspect the ploy," Sunry said, pausing for several seconds, mulling it over. He shrugged reluctantly, "Give it to me. I'll take care of it."

Sunry watched the young Sith leave the hotel. Thirty minutes later Sunry left the room as well, dressed as a custodian, pushing his cart of cleaning chemicals ahead of him… and the room was spotless.

A woman slowly lowered her holozine, and watched the slumped figure depart… and she could feel her heart breaking a little, as the lies piled higher. Elora found a secluded room, and cried. When she was done, she felt a little better… but she still didn't know what to do.

((()))

Carth heard the automated alarm chime, and reluctantly, he climbed out of his bunk. They'd be dropping out of hyperspace in twenty minutes. He stretched, and went looking for his pants…

He belted on his holster, and slipped into the cockpit five minutes before decanting from hyperspace. Carth checked the status of ship systems, satisfied. Bastilla entered the cockpit as they dropped into normal space.

"How'd you sleep, commander?" Carth asked, catching sight of the bags beneath her eyes.

"Well enough, captain," the young woman yawned (discretely, of course).

"There's going to be Sith down on the planet. Might want to hide the holocron in one of the smuggling compartments, until we find the Star Map," Carth advised, as the azure sphere of Manaan came closer in the viewport. There was only one surface city, _Ahto_ City, designed as a space port for trade with foreign planets. The native Selkath were aquatic, and their homes were located in loose pods, anchored beneath the surface of the ocean.

Bastila weighed the suggestion for several seconds, before nodding. By the time the woman returned, Carth had already secured a landing bay, in the _Republic _zone of Ahto city. Representatives from both the Sith, and the Republic were present, since Manaan was the only source of _kolto_ in the galaxy. It couldn't be replicated, synthesized, or grown on any other planet. Considering how useful it was in healing wounds, both sides wanted the miracle substance. The Selkath had leveraged the kolto, to keep their planet neutral in the conflict. They supplied kolto to both sides, but in equal amounts.

Any breach of Manaan's laws by either side would result in tariffs imposed on the export of their kolto, forcing the warring militaries to toe the line… but it relied on both sides remaining at war.

"Water," Canderous grunted, unimpressed as Carth coasted towards the city on repulsorlifts.

"Juhani and I will travel to the Republic Embassy. The rest of you may do as you wish, but keep your comlinks _activated_, in case you are needed," Bastila said.

Several of the crew grumbled, but did as she ordered.

((()))

It was child's play to swap the cores, Elassa found, for an agent as skilled as she. It hadn't been hard to seduce the security technician, or convince him to fake a camera malfunction… and although being mounted on a computer console had not been comfortable, it had let her switch out the modules without difficulty… and she'd never sampled a Nikto before. The experience had been… different, Elassa decided, although her inner thighs were chapped and a little raw now from the pebbly flesh. She embraced her pain though, turning it into power. The memory core rode in a pouch on her belt, surprisingly heavy for such a compact component.

((()))

_No strenuous activity_, Kyle thought to himself darkly, climbing through an overhead access hatch. He had a small hold out blaster in his hand, set to stun. (He was crawling through delicate machinery, after all) In less than five minutes, he managed to bag twelve Gizka, which had taken refuge up here, where the utility droid couldn't pursue. What they _really_ needed, was some poison… or maybe a Nexu kitten. He heard something skitter ahead of his glowrod, so he flicked the light up, illuminating a Gizka, and shot it.

((()))

Sunry took the core from Elassa, and tossed it into a bucket of cleaning solutions. Roland had been quite jumpy about the contents of the core, but Sunry wasn't too concerned. Roland exaggerated _everything_. In fact, the diplomat had wanted him to tie off any and all loose ends. Sunry would take a look at the data himself, before he made any hasty decisions. Elassa was an extremely valuable tool. It would take years and a lot of luck to find another to replace her. He didn't kill her.

It was a half hour stroll to the embassy, and Sunry took his time, admiring the clouds. Roland could sweat a little, he was young (ish).

The spy pulled out the now sparkling core, and dropped it into Roland's hands.

"Now, what's so important about that core?" Sunry asked levelly. It would take a lot to surprise him. Unfortunately, Roland's stupidity was quite vast.

((()))

Bastila and Juhani walked briskly through the crowd, keeping their cowls low. The city was bursting with various aliens, and although it couldn't match Anchorhead's variety, these aliens were certainly cleaner. Moving among the crowd, Bastila caught flashes of Republic uniforms, as well as the occasional silver armor of a Sith soldier.

((()))

"Welcome to Manaan. I am Roland Wann. As the official representative of the Republic Embassy on this planet, I am here to help all citizens of the Republic should they require aid," the diplomat said, looking up from his desk. It was tidily organized, with the datapad corners aligned with the corners of the desk, Bastila noted.

"I am on a mission from the Jedi Council, perhaps you can help me with it," she said.

The diplomat peered more intently, "Uh... of course, of course. I will do whatever I can. But I am only a simple diplomatic representative of the Republic. I doubt I can be of any use to the Jedi Council," he said, effortlessly diffusing any demand for assistance.

"I seek a Star Map, the remnant of an ancient and forgotten race," Bastila said bluntly, secure that the room had no listening devices.

"An ancient and forgotten race... and you think it may be here on Manaan?" the man asked. Bastila could sense his thoughts racing.

"You know something," Bastila said flatly.

"Well... perhaps. But if you want to get information about that, you'll have to talk to… a friend… of mine…" the representative said, propping his elbows forward, "And don't think you can manipulate me. The Republic Diplomatic Corps has to deal with the Sith all the time, so we are very resistant to mental influence."

Bastila stared at the self-important little man… but sensed that he wasn't lying.

((()))

Bastila followed the Representative's directions to a tap-café near the center of the city, in the non-affiliated zone. There she waited, with Juhani, for nearly an hour. Despite her impatience, Bastila restrained herself, setting an example for her apprentice.

"I hear you want to speak to me…" a voice said.

Bastila looked up from her datapad, as a man in his late sixties, or early seventies sat down in the chair across from them.

"You are Roland's friend?" Bastila asked. The man shrugged, "Usually… unless he's being an ass."

Bastila raised an eyebrow. The man was a puddle in the Force, shallow, and reflected what was around him… but revealed little of that which lurked beneath. He had extensive training, she acknowledged.

"I'm looking for a Star Map. It's from a long dead civilization, and _probably_, located on the ocean floor."

The man appraised her for several minutes, his veiled thoughts twitching behind his eyes. Finally, he leaned forward, and placed a small device on the table. Bastila recognized it as a sonic bubble.

"Just so you understand, this can _never_ be repeated," the man said heavily, looking hard at both Jedi.

Bastila nodded slowly.

"There's a science station under construction at the Hrakert rift. A few days ago, it uncovered some ancient ruins, apparently designed for a terrestrial species… but shortly after that, contact was lost. Roland sent a contingent of soldiers to investigate… but they disappeared too… some of the contents of that lab are sensitive, and dangerous in the wrong hands. I want you to investigate the station. I was already organizing a team to investigate… mostly mercenaries."

"How many?" Bastila asked.

"There are two submersible transports, each carries eighteen men, but we only managed to hire nineteen mercenaries so far…" the old man admitted.

"We'll round out the teams," Bastila promised, pulling out her comlink.

((()))

Jolee dropped himself into a stool, and gestured to the barkeep. He ordered a drink, the first he'd had in almost two decades (his attempts at building a still notwithstanding), and quietly focused on the burn traveling down his throat. More importantly, the damned Force insisted he be _here_, _now_… but not _why_.

As Jolee had concluded many times during his self-imposed exile, he might have been a happier man without the Force.

For once though, the Force didn't keep him hanging for long. He felt someone enter from the street, and head towards the bar as well, before dropping into the stool next to him, sobbing. That was rather straightforward.

"Miss? Are you all right?" Jolee asked gently.

She peeked up at him nervously, "I'm fine," she lied.

He knew this woman. It took him a moment, to back track far enough…

"Elora?" Jolee asked, startled.

The woman snapped her head up, "Who are… wait. _Jolee?_" she yelped.

"Elora, what are you doing here?" Jolee asked. The years had been kind to her.

"Jolee…" Elora whispered.

"Whatever could be the matter, my dear?" Jolee asked, curious. Where was the cursing, the snarls, the sharp words?

"It's horrible, Jolee. I… I think… Sunry's having an… _affair_," the former medic said miserably.

_Sunry? _Jolee's memories of a laidback, earnest soldier bubbled to the surface.

"An affair? But..." Jolee struggled to wrap his mind around the idea.

"It's my fault Jolee… I think I might have driven him to this," Elora insisted.

"Calm down, Elora. Where's Sunry now?" Jolee said soothingly.

"I'm not sure…" Elora choked.

"Don't worry, Elora. I'll get to the bottom of this and help Sunry... somehow," Jolee promised. His comlink chimed at him, and he turned it off. Bastila would just have to solve her own problems for a while.

((()))

Kyle nervously rechecked the seals on his armor, even though it wasn't rated deeper than a kilometer.

"Nervous, commando?" one of the echani mercenaries chuckled. She wore a light mesh suit, with cross draw blasters strapped under her arms, and a pair of short vibroswords strapped to her back. All echani manufacture.

"I almost drowned in one of my combat drops," Kyle admitted freely.

"You fear the water," the echani said, rapping a knuckle against the hull by her head.

"I _respect_ the water," Kyle corrected.

The mercenary shrugged, and tucked her short cropped white hair behind one pale ear.

Only one thing comforted Kyle: Carth was piloting the sub.

Kyle looked at the rest of the "team" on the transport sub. There was a male echani, armed in similar fashion to his mate, a twi'lek wearing verpine fiber mesh, armed with a heavy blaster pistol, four human mercs in battered battle armor, and a pair of trandoshan mercs. Juhani sat beside him, meditating. T3-M4 was crammed into the walkway that led to the cramped cockpit, and HK-47 sat in one of the troop seats, glowering at the far bulkhead.

((()))

"Ergeron?" Ordo said, recognizing the other mandalorian's armor.

"Canderous! I haven't seen you since the Republic broke our ranks at the battle of Malachor!" the other man said, surprised.

"I see you've added some new toys to your collection. Times must have been profitable for you since the war," Canderous observed.

"_Very_ profitable. When the Republic defeated our fleets, I learned a valuable lesson: it's far better to be a freelance mercenary in a war than to be a soldier for the losing side."

The sub shuddered, but both men ignored it. If the sub ruptured, they'd be dead before they knew it, so it wasn't worth worrying about.

Some of the other mercs whispered hasty prayers, but the more experienced ones just closed their eyes, and went to sleep.

"Never thought I'd be following a _jettai_ into combat," Ergeron whispered, casting glances at the woman, something only a man in a helmet could get away with.

((()))

_((Greetings, human)) _a selkath rumbled, sitting down at the table with Sunry.

"Your message said this was urgent, Shaelas," Sunry said, sipping at the hot caf in his cup.

_((Many of the Selkath have vanished, human. Most who have gone missing are on the cusp of adulthood, the youth who will someday lead this planet. My own daughter, Shasa, is among those who have disappeared))_ Shaelas said, worried.

Ah… so it was personal now, Sunry thought.

"And you want me to find them…" Sunry said slowly.

_((Yes, human. I will owe you a… favor))_ Shaelas said. Favors were the currency of espionage, where money was rarely an issue. Money was cheap. Favors though… those could not be bought or sold, only repaid.

"I look into it. Immediately," Sunry promised, limping out of the café. He was unaware of the hooded man that followed him.

((()))

Carth stared at his instruments. He signaled the other sub, piloted by a rodian.

"I'm picking up republic black box transponders, sixteen kilometers distant," he said.

_((I see them as well))_ the rodian replied, and HK translated.

"Commander, permission to deviate from course?" Carth asked.

"How much of a deviation?" Bastila asked.

"Closest intercept is at two kilometers from our route," Carth said.

"Permission granted. We'll continue on, however," Bastila said.

"Acknowledged," Carth said, adjusting course.

Kyle was getting a bad feeling about this mission.

((()))

"Are we within hailing distance of the facility?" Bastila asked the rodian pilot. The alien nodded, and tapped a control, opening the comlink.

"Attention, Hrakert Rift facility, this is Republic transport submersible Alpha-three-seven. Please respond," Bastila said. There was no reply. The Jedi continued hailing the distant facility, but ten minutes later, they were close enough for visual inspection.

"Activate the flood lights," Bastila said. The rodian flipped the powerful lights on, and ran the beams across the submerged surface. Even with the lights, visibility was only twenty meters. What she saw wasn't encouraging.

"It's a damned feeding frenzy," one of the mercenaries breathed.

Hundreds of three meter long sharks swarmed the waters between the two halves of the research/mining station. The section that would have connected the halves appeared to still be under construction, with equipment and broken lights strewn across the sea floor.

Angrily, the sharks turned, and began hammering the submersible. They were too small to do any lasting damage… but it was hard to maneuver.

"Is there still atmosphere within the station?" Bastila asked, over the clamor.

The rodian nodded, pointing to the sensor read outs.

"Take us into this docking lock, here," Bastila said, pointing on the screen.

((()))

Carth activated his flood lights, coming to hover over the nearest beacon.

"What happened?" Kyle whispered, standing at his captain's shoulder. It looked like the transport submarine had been… Kyle magnified his helmet's visuals, and confirmed that the missing sections of hull had regular ridge indentations, indicating that _something_ had taken bites out of the hull, instead of a torpedo impact.

"I think we should hurry," Kyle said.

"Agreed," Carth said nervously, killing the lights, and cutting the drive motor back online.

Juhani opened her eyes, "Captain, something is charging us," she unstrapped, and scrambled through the tight leg room to the cockpit.

"What's that, Juhani?" Carth asked, distracted.

"Bring up your sonar. Something is approaching rapidly, and it's enraged," Juhani said.

"There's nothing on—"

Something large appeared on the edge of the sonar screen, coming at them, almost head on, a little to the right. It was fast too.

"Does this tub have any weapons?" Kyle asked.

"No, it's a transport. Attack subs are smaller…" Carth said. He adjusted course to the left, "Strap in, this could get rough," Carth said grimly.

The mercenaries fell silent, only the steady thrum of the drive units, and creaks of stressed metal filled the cramped interior. A heavy, resounding moan/roar shook the sub, and Carth threw the lumbering craft into an evasive roll, once again cursing the density of _water_. Something hit the aft stabilizing fin, but it was a glancing blow, enough to throw everyone against the straps of their harness, but not breach the sub's hull. Carth threw all discretionary power to the engines, gaining them a ten percent speed boost. The lights in the troop compartment died, leaving only illumination from the cockpit's controls.

Whatever was attacking them was more maneuverable… but only slightly faster than them. It had overshot with its attack, and they had almost a hundred meters lead… but even at maximum speed, that lead was slowly shrinking.

Carth pinged Bastila's sub, and downloaded their scan of the approaching structure, locating an intact docking lock, and aimed for it. This would be close… He would have to apply reverse thrust fifty meters from the bay, to prevent crashing into the inner bulkhead. Although unarmed, the sub did possess chaff countermeasures… which launched from the rear of the vessel…

The sub hit the fifty meter mark, and Carth slammed the engines into reverse thrust, and launched _all_ of the chaff flares, creating a turbulent screen of metal and plastic fragments. The sonar blip closed with them, and overshot again, unable to find them in the brief second it passed through the defensive screen, traveling too quickly to easily change course. The sub coasted into the docking lock, and Carth quickly activated docking procedures, which closed the large outer doors behind the transport, and began venting the water from the bay.

"That was… interesting," Kyle observed. The sub settled down onto its struts.

The cycle was complete.

Eagerly, the mercenaries disembarked off the sub, and fanned out, covering the thick airlock that led into the station interior. It was locked, and sealed.

"Tee-three," Kyle barked. The droid rolled down the ramp of the sub, and quickly plugged into a terminal socket, beeping quietly to itself. The emergency lights had not activated, so the bay was only illuminated by the lights mounted to the weapons of the mercenaries.

"Commander," Carth said on his comlink, but only static answered.

"We're being jammed," Kyle said quietly, tapping his helmet. Juhani reached out through the Force, touching her master. "Master Shan is irritated, but not in any immediate danger."

"Alright, you two, stay here, guard our exit," Carth said, pointing at a pair of human mercenaries." They nodded, and crouched on either side of the sub's boarding ramp.

((()))

"—I repeat, captain, do you read me?" Bastila asked, but only feedback answered.

"Mission, get this door open,"

The twi'lek crouched next to the computer access port, and plugged a cable from her datapad into it. It took her a minute of fiddling to bypass the security lockout, and seize control of the airlock. She overrode the safety protocols, which claimed the main doors were open. If that was true, they'd all be breathing sea water at the moment.

She activated the doors, which slowly cycled open with a metallic clank that reverberated through the deck. The doors were half a meter thick. Her eyes didn't have any trouble in the darkness, but the mercenaries behind her fanned out into a lopsided wedge, panning the lights on their weapons across the corridor.

"Mission, can you get anything else from that terminal?" Bastila whispered.

"No. It's on a separate circuit from the main computer," Mission said, frustrated.

"Is that standard procedure?" Bastila asked.

"No. Someone cut the server links manually," Mission sighed.

Zaalbar rumbled something, sniffing at the air.

"What did he say?" Canderous asked, shifting his grip on _ord'ika_.

"Big Z smells blood," Mission translated.

The mandalorian in blue and beige armor chuckled, drawing an assault carbine off his back, activating its laser sight. In the garish light, blood could be seen, splashed against bulkheads, pooled on the floor… and there were signs that bodies had been dragged away, leaving gory trails.

"Could the Sith have found this place?" Canderous wondered. It certainly matched their sensible no-prisoners approach to warfare. Prisoners tied up resources, food, water, shelter, medical supplies, and soldiers to guard them, all of which had to be taken from the front lines.

"If they had, they wouldn't have moved the bodies," Bastila said.

"True," Ordo said thoughtfully. They came to another sealed door, and Bastila motioned for Mission.

((()))

After two hours of searching, and multiple favors to interested parties, Sunry was forced to face the truth. He had failed. No one was talking, no one had seen anything, but the most frustrating of all: those in the position to _know_ something, typically weren't Selkath… and as such, one "fish-man" looked like another to them.

"You've gotten old, Sunry," a man said, sitting down on the park bench beside him, his hood raised… though there was something familiar about that voice…

"I know you… don't I?" Sunry said cautiously.

"I should hope so, damn it," the man grumbled, pulling back his hood. For a long moment, Sunry saw a younger, happier face. Then it was gone, replaced by the wrinkles, the hidden pain, and the loss of another.

"Jolee," Sunry breathed. He had thought he'd never see the Jedi again… that his friend had gone off to find a challenge he could not overcome, a place to be slain, that he might begin his search for his dead wife.

"What are you doing here?" Sunry asked, still a little numb with surprise.

"Elora sent me. She's worried about you," Jolee grumbled, chewing on something he'd fished out of a belt pouch. It had a pungent odor, whatever it was.

_Elora…_ "I know she worries… but she shouldn't. I'm fine," Sunry said sharply.

_And how did she contact you?_

For a brief moment, Sunry considered the possibility of hallucinating and manifesting parts of his own psyche. It had happened before, during the war… and a few times afterwards… Sunry _had_ always looked up to Jolee. If anyone would be his conscience, Sunry believed it would be him.

"Sunry… what are you doing? Because you sure aren't grabbing the groceries, like you told Elora," Jolee sighed.

A republic soldier walked past, adjusting the straps on her helmet.

"Excuse me, miss?" Sunry called. The woman looked up, startled, but her guarded expression eased a little. It was hard to fear an old cripple.

"Do you need something?" she asked.

"Can you see this man? I hallucinate sometimes, so I was just wondering…" Sunry trailed off, pointing at Jolee.

"I do," the woman agreed.

Now, people sometimes went along with him, just to keep him appeased, but that didn't help, so Sunry asked the next question, "Can you describe him?"

Unless the person he was asking was a hallucination… although he'd never manifested more than one at a time.

"Your friend is an older male human, dark skin, with a gray beard. His clothing looks like it's made from some sort of leather and canvas," the trooper told him.

"Thank you miss, I appreciate it," Sunry said graciously.

Jolee quirked an eyebrow at him, but Sunry ignored the implied question.

"Jolee… can you keep a secret… from my wife?" Sunry asked calmly.

"Probably… unless it's dangerous," Jolee hedged.

"After my injury, I couldn't serve the republic physically… but others took notice of my abilities, and decided to employ my remaining skills in a different capacity… for gathering intelligence, and sowing disinformation among the enemy. I haven't told Elora. She hates the politicians, for what they did to me. She wouldn't understand," Sunry confided.

Jolee looked past the man's training, deep within his friend's mind… and found that it was true.

But there was more. Something dark, that ate at his friend viciously.

Jolee nodded slowly, "So… what're you doing right now?"

So Sunry told him.

((()))

The mercenary group cautiously advanced through the dried blood, keeping an eye on the closed doorways on either side of the corridor. They reached another pressure bulkhead, which had been engaged. T3-M4 plugged into a nearby socket.

HK-47 spun, leveling his blaster rifle on a closed doorway.

"Observation: Master, something is within that room,"

"How do you know?" Carth asked.

"Obvious answer: they are talking."

Kyle and one of the trandoshans stacked up by the door, and Kyle nodded, he hit the door release, and the trandoshan tucked into the room, with Kyle a half second behind him. The room was empty… but someone _was_ talking.

"Is somebody out there? Fishy, fishy, fishy? Coming to eat me, too? You can't get me little fishy. Not in here. I'm safe behind my walls," a slightly crazed voice whispered.

Kyle signaled the trandoshan, pointing to the personal effects locker. The trandoshan sniffed, and nodded in agreement. Cautiously both soldiers advanced through the messy office, until they were flanking the tall locker.

"I'm Sergeant Draven and I've been sent by the Republic to investigate what's happened here," Kyle said, in his best _I'm a nice soldier, so come out_ voice.

"Investigate? You're just like the others - fodder for the Selkath. Walking fish snacks. Chomp, chomp, chomp - if you can run you might be fast food," the voice giggled hysterically.

"Why don't you come out here? It's safe, I promise," Kyle said.

"Oh, you'd like that - wouldn't you? I walk out and - BAM! Selkath swarm in from everywhere, ripping and rending! Fishy move fast and silent. No, no, no friend. I don't play that game. I've got a winning hand right here in this room - my room! No fishy, fishy for me!" the voice whimpered.

"Come out, or I blast door," the trandoshan hissed, losing patience.

"Ha-ha! That's what you think! Fishy think that too. These walls and door are one centimeter - no... two centimeters! - of durasteel! I'm invulnerable behind my walls! Nobody's getting in here!" the voice cackled.

"What happened with the Selkath?" Kyle asked, shooing the trandoshan away, to go back to the group. Haughtily, the powerful reptilian stalked away.

"Selkath went insane, started killing everybody, I locked myself in here! I'm safe in here. Nothing can hurt me in here! No fishy food for me," the voice whispered.

"What made the Selkath insane?" Kyle asked.

"Don't know. Go ask them. Ha-ha-ha!" the voice shrieked.

"Surely you know _something_," Kyle insisted.

"Demon screamed, shook every mind. We fell to the ground, but survived. Fishy, fishies, though, they just got hungry!" the voice said, almost sounded sane for a moment.

"I need you to come out. We can protect you," Kyle said firmly.

"No, no, no, no, no. That's what the others said. Soldiers like you. But they're dead. The Selkath ate them! Lunchie-munchie!"

Kyle nodded, and retreated to the corridor.

"Captain, you may want to hold off opening that door. We found a survivor," he looked at Juhani, "Apprentice, I need your help."

Juhani nodded meekly, and followed him.

"The survivor's… well, he's not right in the head. I can't get him to open the locker, and he claims its two centimeters thick durasteel. I need you to carefully sever the locking mechanism," Kyle instructed, pointing where he wanted the cut.

Juhani nodded, activating her lightsaber. She eased the tip of the blade into the metal two centimeters, and cut down four centimeters. Kyle slipped his fingers into the groove, feeling the locking mechanism. "Good, just another half centimeter," he said.

He had a lightsaber hanging from his utility belt, but Kyle lacked the finesse years of training provided. He didn't trust himself, not with the life of another. He could hack and slash, but something this minute was beyond him.

The locking bar pinged, and Kyle pulled the door open as soon as Juhani but her weapon away. The stink hit him like a wall. A painfully skinny human male, in his early thirties had contorted himself inside the locker. The smell of urine and feces was pretty thick. Kyle couldn't really tell what the man looked like, he had claw marks across his face, and the flesh was puffy and infected looking.

"Nooo!" the man screamed, shrinking away, before simply fainting.

"_Fierfeik_," Kyle grunted, dragging the unconscious bag of skin and bones out into the room. He pulled out his personal medpac, and sprayed the kolto applicator on the cuts. That would sterilize the wound, and promote tissue regeneration… Kyle opened a second locker, locating an emergency blanket. He cut the crusted clothing off the man, which took most of the dried excrement with it, but the skin on his legs and groin was blistered and red. Kyle wiped the man down with the relatively clean section of his shirt, tossing the garment away, and used the rest of the kolto spray on the weeping flesh. Kyle wrapped the man in the clean survival blanket, and used a long acting sedative from his kit. It wouldn't put the man under, but it would keep him sleepy and calm.

One of the human mercs carried the battered survivor on his shoulder, back to the sub.

"So, what did you get out of him?" Carth asked.

"It seems something drove the Selkath here insane. They're responsible," Kyle said.

"Well, at least its not the Sith," Carth said.

When the mercenary returned from his errand, and fell in with the group, Carth signaled T3-M4 to open the next door.

((()))

"Why are we here?" Sunry asked, studying the layout of the cantina.

"No idea," Jolee said, glancing around. Sunry looked at the Jedi sharply.

"The Force isn't real good on giving details," Jolee shrugged, but the explanation appeased Sunry. There was a sudden commotion at the far end of the cantina. Apparently, there were both Republic, and Sith personnel present… with alcohol.

That was _always_ a good combination, Jolee winced, in pity for the aqualish ensign trying to disentangle his human comrade, and get them _out_ of the bar… who received an elbow to his face for his troubles.

"A brawl?" Sunry said, nonplussed.

"No… not a brawl. A distraction," Jolee realized. The four Sith troopers were veterans. They outnumbered their inexperienced targets, and were stone-cold sober. They were making a lot of noise, but they were clearly _playing_ with their food. Jolee studied the other patrons, looking for those _not_ watching the fight… and he saw a humanoid in a hooded cloak escorting a young selkath from the bar, apparently deep in conversation.

_**There**_, the Force told him smugly.

Jolee told it where it could put its smugness.

The Force was not amused.

((()))

Bastila led the group deeper into the dark station. She could feel the fear and death that lingered in the air, like an invisible bloodstain. Great evil had been done here.

Something touched the edge of her awareness, and she halted, probing ahead of the group.

"What is it?" Mission asked.

"I'm not sure. They don't feel sentient…" Bastila said, probing the slippery, flickering thoughts."

"Did the station have lab animals?" the twi'lek suggested.

"I don't know, but they're massing," Bastila said, igniting only one blade of her weapon.

"Eyes open, boys!" Canderous grunted, pushing his way to the front, activating his weapon.

Various weapons rose, pointing down the corridor. There was a T intersection eight meters ahead.

"How many?" Mission asked.

"I don't know, more than ten, their minds keep overlapping," Bastila whispered.

Hunched shapes scrambled into view, swarming towards the group. They were Selkath.

"Drop 'em!" Canderous barked. The amount of firepower unleashed was… staggering. Bastila stood back, staying out of the field of fire. The Selkath never came closer than three meters, Canderous's heavy repeating blaster saw to that…

One of the ventilation panels overhead fell, and more Selkath dropped down behind the group. Bastila charged, holding the rear with efficient swipes of her lightsaber, unnoticed by the mercs. As suddenly as the attack came, the Selkath melted away, retreating.

A probe.

Canderous turned, and caught sight of Bastila, flipping a few of her kills over with the toe of her boot.

"_Kandosii, Jettai,_" the mandalorian said. As if waking from a stupor, the other mercenaries also realized how close they had come to being ambushed.

She sent a warning to Kyle, through their bond, but he was currently fighting something, so she withdrew, to avoid distracting him.

This had shown her one thing however. Leaving only two men to guard the sub was insufficient.

"You two," Bastila barked, and the human mercs straightened, "get back to the sub, and reinforce the guards there,"

The two men blanched, but took off at a quick run, battle armor clacking.

A wounded Selkath lunged from the pile of bodies, trying to gnaw through the distracted Iridonian mercenary's boot. The warrior roared, and smashed one gauntleted fist into the elongated head. Half-centimeter long spikes crested his knuckles, enhancing the devastation of the punch. The Selkath was clearly dead from the first blow, but the warrior laid into it, pulverizing the head, until even the brain was exposed, glorying in the carnage that slicked his armor.

"Enough!" Bastila snapped. The merc slowly looked up from his kill, but the Jedi lit one of her blades calmly, and stared the warrior down.

((()))

Jolee was fairly certain the cloaked figure was a Force User. Thankfully, Jolee was wearing clothing made from the hide of a terentatek. It's immunity to the Force was literally skin deep. Although the tanned hide wasn't _immune_, it was still formidable camouflage… and with the Force, it was hard to hit what you couldn't sense. True, the Jedi could still _see_ the target, but considering how little the Jedi _used_ their eyes while aiming the Force, instead being drilled, repeatedly, to only trust their senses… heh, it was like asking a pilot to maneuver his fighter with his _feet_, instead of hands. Thankfully, the hide was like a one-way mirror. He could still see _out_, but others couldn't see _in_.

At least, Jolee didn't _think_ so…

The selkath was led to the Sith Embassy… and Jolee glanced at Sunry, "Close enough?"

Sunry nodded, and Jolee raised his blaster, and shot the figure. It took him a moment to put the guards that rushed forward to sleep, _and_ erase the last sixty seconds from their memories. The selkath kept looking around, clearly unable to comprehend what was happening. Jolee strolled to the sprawled body, and tossed the unconscious man over one shoulder.

"Might want to come with me," Jolee suggested.

_((I may wish to accompany you))_ the Selkath echoed.

Sunry was waiting.

((()))

"Oh my god, they got Vilnar!" a merc screamed, trying to push his way through the swarm of Selkath, to reach his fallen friend. "Get down!" Juhani snarled, and the man did so. A sapphire blade of energy scythed over his head, taking a row of Selkath off at the shoulders. The merc lunged forward, grabbed Vilnar's drag strap, and hauled him back towards the group. Juhani retreated behind them, hacking at clawed flippers and gnashing teeth.

A sonic pistol discharged at almost point blank range, sending several Selkath writhing to the ground, bleeding from multiple orifices.

Juhani threw a trio of Selkath through the air with a blast of telekinesis, bisecting a fourth, and snapped off a lightning fast kick to the chest of a fifth. They'd been flanked.

HK-47 drove his fingers through the throat of a Selkath, and calmly fired his rifle one handed, dropping more of the creatures. T3-M4 had backed himself into a corner, and was using his blaster and blow torch to keep enemies at bay.

It was a long, grim slog through the corridors to a defensible location. T3-M4 secured the pressure door, and everyone took stock, breathless.

Vilnar's eyes were glassy and empty.

"Strip his ammo," Kyle ordered the friend grimly. The mercenary nodded.

"Ammo check," Carth called, counting the blaster packs on his belt.

The mercenaries had not come lightly armed, but they also hadn't bulked up on blaster packs, the way they would have for an insertion behind enemy lines. Many had burned through half of their ammo in the running engagement.

Unfortunately, the door to the next section was sealed… and it was a blast door.

"Can we get through this door?" Kyle asked, glancing at the lightsaber in Juhani's fist.

She experimentally swiped, but the blade rebounded violently.

"It's magnetically sealed," Juhani sighed.

"How much further to the command center?" Carth asked.

Kyle consulted his datapad, which held the schematic T3-M4 had downloaded.

"The turbolifts have been sabotaged, probably by the Selkath. Someone also tripped the blast doors, obviously…" Kyle peered at the map intently,

"There's a possible detour… yes. Here's a route," Kyle said, highlighting the path with a red line, showing it to Carth.

"Let's get to it then," the captain said.

((()))

Sunry had the contents of the man's pockets arranged on a table in front of him, quickly searching through them for clues. The man had sallow skin, and hadn't shaved in at least a day. He had numerous scars that appeared to be self inflicted on his forearms, by a blade of some kind. _He carried no lightsaber_. If he was a sith… he hadn't earned his lightsaber. Jolee had assured Sunry that _both_ the man, _and_ the Selkath were Force Sensitive.

Unfortunately, the man wasn't stupid enough to carry identification… although Sunry did find a wedding ring in a hidden pocket of the tunic, where it would have rested over the man's heart.

The band was simple metal, without adornment, but a name was inscribed inside: _Tela_. Without a last name, that told Sunry very little. But it was a good hint.

Sunry had set this room aside for interrogation. The rooms were sound proof, and stocked with all of the latest… _means of reluctant communication_.

The man was restrained on a table that would not have looked amiss in a medical facility. Indeed, there were almost as many bio-monitors attached to it.

More importantly, Sunry had inserted an intravenous line, which was now sending a steady stream of substances that made it very difficult to successfully employ the Force.

"We ready?" Jolee asked slowly, raising his hand over the man's head.

"Stop," Sunry barked. Jolee looked up at the spy, surprised.

"The Sith protect their spies with some sort of mental feedback technique. They can turn their minds in on themselves so Force compulsions won't affect them."

Jolee frowned. First time _he'd_ ever heard of it.

"So… what do you want _me_ to do?" Jolee asked.

Sunry smiled sickly, as he began hooking a different drug to the intravenous line, "I need you to turn a blind eye… for now."

((()))

"Are you sure this is the only way?" Juhani asked. They had found a stair well, and descended, but the floor below had been partially flooded. Somewhere, a bulkhead had dropped, preventing the _entire_ level from flooding… Kyle moved out first, wading into the dark water. It was only a meter deep…

T3-M4 balked at the water's edge, until HK kicked him impatiently off into the water, where he sank to the bottom swiftly. Everyone stared at HK. The combat droid shrugged,

"Observation: The trash-compactor's systems are sealed against water damage."

Eerily distorted beeps and whistles of an annoyed nature bubbled up through the water, and the droid's glowing blue photoreceptor could be seen. The water was impenetrable to Kyle's IR filter, so he switched it off, activating his helmet's tac-lamp, which _somewhat _illuminated the water.

Juhani fiddled with her lightsaber, before clipping it to her belt.

Slowly, the group filed down the stairs into the water. This had apparently been the crew deck, as they passed a mess hall and kitchen. One of the trandoshan mercenaries walked at the rear of the group, backwards. Its vision was a mix of thermal and visible spectrums, with more of an emphasis on thermal. As such, he had difficulty seeing through the water, even with a weapon light. He never saw his attacker until he was dragged under the surface.

The group spun at the sudden splash. The rear guard.

"Where's the trando?" Carth demanded.

Green blood floated on top of the water like a film of oil, but there was no sign of the mercenary.

"Shit…" the human merc whispered.

"Juhani?" Carth asked.

"I… I can't sense anything…" the young Jedi said nervously.

"We need to hurry," Carth told Kyle. They reached a normal door. Someone had blasted the lock, sealing it. Kyle pulled the lightsaber off his belt, and activated it.

Nothing happened. Kyle hit the stud again, but the weapon remained dark.

Juhani took the inert weapon, and examined it.

"I thought these things were water proof," Kyle said.

"They are… but, see here, this seal has been cracked," Juhani said, looking reproachfully at Kyle, and his rough handling of the weapon.

"In other words, it's ruined," Kyle said.

"Probably," Juhani agreed.

Kyle sighed, and tossed the useless knuckle duster into the water, "Could you get the door?" he asked. Juhani nodded, activating her weapon above the water, and carefully cut a semicircle in the door, above the water line.

"Submerging the blade in the water will cause a feed-back loop, shorting out the blade," Juhani explained.

The human merc hit the panel with his elbow, knocking the panel out, impatient to be out of the corridor. Selkath flippers erupted, latching onto his arms and head, dragging him through the hole in the blink of an eye. His scream cut off wetly. Kyle popped a frag grenade off his belt, and strong armed it into the room.

"Alternate route?" Carth demanded.

"Through the mess hall!" Kyle shouted back, firing into the shrieking mass of claws and teeth. The grenade exploded, its concussive force magnified by the water.

The mercs led the way, surging forward through the water.

"Run on the tables!" Carth shouted, climbing up onto the nearest table. He ran, and jumped to the next, making much better time. The tables were submerged, but running through twenty centimeters of water is still easier than a hundred. T3-M4 could be vaguely tracked by a glowing blue light that zipped along under the surface. Something long, with lots of teeth surged out of the water, and its jaws smashed into the female echani, both disappearing back into the water.

"E'saan!" the male echani barked, deftly reversing his momentum and flipped off the table, right into the turbulent patch of water. The female struggled to the surface, blood running down her arm, hauling the shark up as well. It was only two meters long, not quite full grown… and had her vibro-sword shoved through its head.

"How did _sharks_ get in here?" Carth demanded.

"Probably got sucked in with the water," Kyle panted, jumping off the table, glancing up and down the next corridor.

"Come on!" Carth roared. Juhani was next, followed by HK-47, then the echani. T3-M4 almost gave the captain a heart attack when the unseen droid bumped past his knees. The trandoshan spun, opening fire on something in the water. Selkath boiled out of the water, trying to drag the strong reptilian down, but Trandoshans were almost as strong as wookiees… and much meaner.

A machete spun in its hand. It wasn't a vibrosword, just sharpened metal, but that didn't stop the merc much. The twi'lek merc never stopped running, brushing past Carth. From among the Selkath, something _big_ flopped out of the water, jaws clamping down on the trandoshan's legs, and hauled it into the water.

Carth didn't stick around to see if the trandoshan surfaced. He had no doubts about the outcome of that battle.

The group slogged up the next stairwell. T3-M4 was advancing up the stairs with its wheels locked, using awkward stepping motions.

"HK, carry Tee-three up!" Carth ordered.

"Reply: Yes master…" HK said, less than enthused. He clipped his blaster to magnetic attachment points on its back, and picked up the utility droid, making better time on the stairs, and opening the path up for the twi'lek and Carth. Something nipped at his heels, and instinctively, Carth pumped a few bolts at it blindly as he raced up the stairs.

((()))

The man groaned. His shoulder probably burned from the stun blast still, Sunry thought. It took him a moment for his eyes to focus enough to see Sunry.

"What… who are you?" he slurred.

"Relax. I'm not here to hurt you," Sunry said calmly.

The man smiled sickly, "You're lying."

Sunry started the man off on the standard dose of truth serum… and the monitors began to scream in alarm, as brain activity began to flat-line, and the man's eyes rolled up, showing the whites.

"_Fierfeik_," Sunry hissed, hastily injecting the antidote… which had the nasty side effect of cause short term memory loss.

The man opened his eyes again, "Who are you?"

This might take a while… Sunry thought grimly.

((()))

"The command, center," Mission said proudly.

"Can you get the door open?" Bastila asked.

"No… I can't get at the circuits," the slicer said, irritated. Bastila sensed a familiar presence, on the other side of the blast door.

"Kyle is on the other side," Bastila said, touching the door. She reached out, and Kyle understood.

"We'll hold position," Bastila said. Zaalbar snatched a flying selkath out of the air, and broke it between his hands, tossing it aside.

((()))

"Look, Karr, I like you. You remind me of someone I used to know," Sunry said conversationally. So far, _Karr_, the man on the table, would go into a coma if given anything stronger than a quarter dose of the truth serum. Unfortunately, at that dosage, Karr was only mildly suggestible… but Sunry had been at this game for a _long_ time.

"But I'm trying to find some missing teenagers. You have any children, Karr?" Sunry asked, as if discussing the weather.

The Sith was watching him with a bemused expression on his face.

"I need to find them," Sunry said quietly.

"I will not tell you where they are," Karr said, trying to be careful in his wording, fighting the serum.

"Ah… so you _do_ know about them," Sunry said gently.

"My comrades will find me," Karr said.

"If you don't tell me, I suspect I can always ask Tela…" Sunry pondered.

The man's eyes widened, and Sunry saw true fear in his eyes. "If you harm her, your death will _not_ be quick," the man snarled, straining at the straps.

"I'll just step into the next room to ask," Sunry shrugged.

The man sagged in relief, "Then you lie. She is too far from Manaan. Too quickly."

"Karr… how long do you think you've been here?" Sunry asked.

"A few hours," the prisoner said, nonplussed.

Sunry smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry. It's been nearly a week… but some of the drugs cause short term memory loss… we actually had this same conversation yesterday… and at the time it _was_ a lie." Sunry stepped close, enough for the man to clearly see his face… and vaguely sense his emotions.

"But it's not a lie _now_," Sunry said, letting his regret and sadness peek through the veil of his training.

The sith trembled slightly, trusting his shackled senses.

((()))

Kyle felt Bastila's touch in his head, and she tried to communicate the concept of close proximity.

"Tee-three, get this door open," Carth barked. They were right outside the command center.

"More Selkath," E'saan reported, flitting down the corridor, weaving through the horde, her vibro-swords flashing in tandem with the vibro-blades of her mate. If her injured arm pained her, she didn't show it.

Kyle couldn't shoot into the swarm without risking friendly fire, so he waited next to Carth. HK on the other hand, had no such fears, providing _very _tight cover fire.

The door hissed open, and Kyle swept it, having switched back to IR. It looked empty, at first, until a man popped up, and fired. The bolt flashed past Kyle's helmet, slapping against the door frame. Kyle's snap shot hit the armored man's shoulder, spinning him to the ground.

Kyle surged forward, and rounded the control panel. An armored republic trooper scrambled for his blaster, _"Hold!"_ Kyle barked, using his parade-sergeant voice. The man froze for a second, which gave Kyle time to kick the blaster rifle away.

The rest of the team poured into the control room, and T3-M4 sealed the door.

The trooper relaxed when he saw Juhani enter.

"Jedi? They sent Jedi…"

"Identify yourself," Captain Onasi demanded.

"Corporal Ranner, Fifty-Second Battalion, Alpha Company."

"Identify your targets next time," Kyle said tersely, he looked at the control panel, and disabled the security on the blast door, and opened the inner pressure door. The sound of blaster fire washed over Kyle, as Bastila's team scrambled inside. Kyle resealed the doors.

"Are you a rescue crew?" the trooper asked, accepting Carth's offered hand.

"The Republic sent us down to investigate," Carth confirmed.

"Trooper, what happened here?" Bastila asked.

"My company was sent a couple days ago to investigate the station - but all we found was a bunch of insane Selkath killing everything that moved. My squad mates are all dead. The Selkath swarmed over us - there were dozens of them! And they...they looked wrong, somehow. Like something had changed inside them. Insane or something..." the young man stammered.

"Changed inside them? Yes... this whole place feels wrong, somehow," Bastila said, shivering.

"How did over two hundred republic troopers get their _shebs_ handed to them by unarmed _gihaal_ _((fish))_?" Canderous asked.

The trooper noticed the big man for the first time, taking an instinctive step backwards.

"I thought you said the Republic sent you," the trooper said suspiciously.

"The embassy didn't have any men to spare, so they hired some mercenaries to support us," Bastila explained.

"But, half the company made it back to the transports, they launched!" the trooper protested.

"No one made it back," Carth said, "I'm sorry."

"No… they can't be… not all—"

"There's something big out there. We found one of the submarines… torn open. Then the creature came after us," Carth said quietly.

"Let me take a look at that shoulder," Kyle said. Trooper armor wasn't up to commando spec. The plates were lighter and thinner, but the body glove and environmental systems were similar. His shot had penetrated the plastoid shoulder pauldron, and the body glove beneath. Kyle detached the plate, and the suit panels, to get at the shoulder.

"Nasty," Carth winced in sympathy, seeing the wound in the illumination of Kyle's tac-lamp.

The shot had penetrated to the muscle, burning a one centimeter diameter plug of flesh away. Rippling out from the hit were rings of third, second, and first degree burn.

"Trooper, you still have your medpac?" Kyle asked. Silently, the soldier detached the module from his belt, and offered it to Kyle.

Kyle sprayed the kolto into the wound, packed a sterile dressing into it, and applied a kolto patch over the injury. He repacked the medpac, and handed the module back to the trooper.

"Can you fight?" Kyle asked.

"Yes sir," the trooper said.

Mission examined the control panel. Most of the security holocams weren't functional, but what she could see wasn't encouraging.

"The jamming field isn't coming from here," Mission discovered, "The other half of the station is transmitting it."

"Why?" Kyle asked, curious.

"Does it matter?" Carth said bluntly.

Mission scrolled through the construction work logs for the last week. She highlighted one entry that detailed discovery of an "unknown" artifact, located in a cave of the Hrakert rift.

There were no other logs after it.

"See if the work crew's helmet cams recorded anything," Kyle suggested from her shoulder, startling the girl.

((()))

"Karr… please, help me. I _want_ you to help me. I try to avoid hurting prisoners. I ask nicely… but I'm not the only interrogator here… and I'm_ not_ the one with Tela _right now,"_ Sunry said softly.

Karr snarled, and strained at the straps again.

"They've got a new kid, a real ladder climber. His eyes are so full of stars he doesn't care who he's stepping on to reach the top. Between you and me, I think the rodian is a little… _unbalanced_," Sunry confided.

Karr's eyes fought to focus on Sunry's face. _Rodians…_

"Karr… she's cracking," Sunry said, and he thought of Elora, letting just a _sliver_ of his pain show through the gaps in his veil. Karr drew back, as if slapped.

"They don't know if she even knows anything… but the kid doesn't care. She has a few hours… after that, I don't think anyone would recognize her… and I don't mean physically. She'll be a shell, a husk of broken meat."

There was a single tear balanced perfectly at the edge of Karr's left eye, trapped, unable to _quite_ fall… and Sunry saw that single opening, where a few words could drive deepest, and shatter a man.

"Karr… she's pregnant."

((()))

Juhani stood off in the corner, away from the press of bodies, her cloak dripping on the floor. Her species did not enjoy groups, or enclosed spaces. She was hyper-aware of the others in the room, as her instincts began to scream at her. She was trapped in a box. The twi'lek male wearing verpine fiber mesh was staring at her. Finally he approached, "You look familiar somehow," he said slowly.

"What?" Juhani asked.

She didn't like the way the man's eyes were looking at her, and the teenager became aware of how her wet clothes clung to the contours of her body.

"Hm... now where could I have... No, he's dead and she likely is too. I..." the twi'lek muttered, one _lekku_ twitching.

"What are you talking about?" Juhani demanded, pulling her cloak closed.

"Do you know each other?" Bastila asked pointedly, appearing at the mercenary's shoulder.

"This doesn't concern you, _jettai_," the merc spat. He glanced back at Juhani, "Maybe I was wrong. Still, I think a specimen like you would be a nice addition to my collection. So what would it take, _jettai_, for you to sell your pet here to me?"

This man was insane, Bastila realized, touching the edges of his mind… or at least, mentally unbalanced.

"My apprentice is not for _sale_," Bastila hissed.

The twi'lek waved her words away as if they were cloying smoke, "Now don't be so selfish. We both know Cathar aren't real people anyway. The females make amusing pets, but males should be put down like the animals they are. I remember one time on Taris..."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!" Juhani demanded, slamming the bigger man against the bulkhead, the corded muscle in her arms rippling beneath the fur.

All eyes turned to her. Although Cathar somewhat resembled humans with feline features, anatomically, they were built much differently. They were fifty percent stronger, pound for pound, than any human.

"WHAT DID YOU DO ON TARIS, YOU SCUM?!" Juhani screamed, her words causing the air to vibrate with unconscious use of the Force.

The twi'lek smirked, "Put one of you down like the animals you are. So easy... then I saw one of the females on the auction block, but that damned _jettai_..."

"It was you!" Juhani said, drawing back, as if he were dipped in poison, letting the man fall to the deck.

The twi'lek frowned, "What? Me? Oh, now I recognize where I've seen that face before. You were the little Cathar I was going to purchase. But that _jettai_ came and stole you away from me!"

"You were there. You… my mother…" Juhani said, her nostrils flaring.

"She begged me for every minute of it," the rapist smirked.

"I will see you dead for what you have done to my family!" Juhani howled, reaching for her lightsaber.

For a moment, Bastila almost did nothing, but she recognized the source of her hatred. Kyle had overheard the confrontation, and the man's actions sickened the commando. To Kyle, there was only one acceptable sentence… death.

But Bastila was a Jedi. She blocked the Force Bond, and inhaled deeply, "_Juhani_. There _is no emotion_," she said sharply.

Juhani was frozen, her weapon held high, quivering, eyes wild.

"There is… peace," Juhani finished, slowly lowering her weapon. "I will not walk that path again," she said softly, shutting off her weapon.

"Yes, yes, say _no_ to the _dark side_," the twi'lek mocked, as the Jedi turned their backs on him. He straightened up, and found the commando standing in front of him.

"What do you want?" the man sneered.

"Right now, I'd really like to cut off your genitals and feed them to you," the man said quietly, as if discussing what he had for breakfast or sports scores.

The rapist sneered, unimpressed, "I have killed hundreds of your kind, I was at Cathar, Taris, Nebaleen, Onderon, Xiost, and planets whose names will never be spoken again."

"This isn't about me," the commando said quietly, "If you ever touch that girl again, I will kill you, and not even the _jettai_ will save you, _chakaar_," the commando promised.

Ergeron looked over at Ordo, "This is why no one likes _mando'ad_," he sighed.

"Never did like slavers," Canderous agreed, sizing up the twi'lek. What disgusted him most, was the man was _mando'ad_, but wore _verpine _armor. Now, _verd ori'shya beskar'gam ((a warrior is more than his armor))_, but still… this was different.

This wasn't over. Canderous could feel it… and it seemed the commando thought so as well.

((()))

"Stop them, I'll talk. Please, stop them," Karr wept. Sunry pulled out his comlink quickly, "Drivik, stop the interrogation, Karr is willing to talk," Sunry said hastily.

"Are you sure? The kid's almost got her eating out of his hand," Jolee replied laconically.

"Do it!" Sunry barked.

"Don't take the tone with _me_," Jolee said dangerously.

"She'll keep. There's no value in torturing her further, not at the moment, Karr will _talk,_" Sunry pleaded.

Karr watched him desperately, as Jolee remained silent for several long seconds.

"Fine…" Jolee hissed, "I'll tell the little bastard to stop cutting."

The comlink went dead, and Karr sagged, shuddering against the restraints.

"Drivik's not a patient man. I need to give him something, quickly, or he might reconsider," Sunry told Karr.

The sith nodded grimly, "The Selkath are in the Sith Embassy."

"We already know that. _Where _in the Embassy?" Sunry said.

"The lowest level…" Karr said slowly.

"Why are the Sith abducting Force Sensitive Selkath?" Sunry asked quietly. Karr looked surprised by the question, "They will become the next generation. They will one day, very soon, play a part in Manaan's government. They will give us victory… for they will be Sith."

Sunry nodded slowly. He only had a few more questions…

((()))

Mission spotted a blinking signal on the terminal, a message. It was audio only.

She hit it.

Static came out of the speakers, "This is chief researcher Kono Nolan. If anyone finds this message… no, scratch that, there's no time. Look, if you survived the Selkath, I think I have the answer. I've been working on a Firaxa repellant, but it was too strong, it kills them. I'm sending this message from the primary research lab. If I can get the poison into the harvester's distribution system, we can kill all of the firaxa in a seven kilometer radius. The EV suits over here are damaged though, and parts of the station are flooded. I can't _get_ to the harvester. If you find this—" the transmission abruptly cut off in a squeal of static.

"Sounds like that's when the jamming field started," Carth observed.

"Or someone killed the researcher," Ordo grunted.

"Mission, where are the Eee-Vee suits kept?" Bastila asked.

"Near external airlocks, if they're following standard operating procedure," Kyle and the trooper both answered.

"Yeah, found it. There's an equipment room just outside Airlock Dee-seven," Mission confirmed.

"How many suits?" Kyle asked. Mission activated the camera, and panned it around the small room.

"I see four…" she said

"There's another equipment room, here, airlock Dee-three," Kyle said, pointing to the schematic on his datapad.

"Yeah, gimme a sec," Mission said, routing to the new location.

"I see three suits in that one," she answered.

"Any more?" Carth asked. Mission scanned the inventory records, but if there were additional suits, they weren't listed… many of the suits had never been logged back in… the owners had probably been killed outside.

"Nothing else on this side," she said.

"So a seven man team," Bastila said.

"Observation: I can fit within one of the pressure suits, master," HK-47 said.

Carth shrugged, "Couldn't hurt,"

"Big Z's too tall, Bastila," Mission pointed out.

"And you are too small," E'saan said.

"I will lead the team. Any volunteers?" Bastila asked. HK and Kyle's hands rose immediately. The Iridonian shrugged, and raised his hand as well.

"Three more," Bastila said.

"Will we get bonus pay for this?" Ergeron asked.

"Yes," Bastila said tersely. The merc raised his hand.

Surprisingly, the trooper at the back of the room raised his hand.

"One more," Bastila said, looking at the echani, but both shook their head, "We do not separate."

A human merc, chewing on a wad of something raised his hand, "What the hell."


	13. Chapter 13: Reunions

_((The sith have my daughter? You are certain of this?))_ Shaelas demanded. Sunry nodded, "I interrogated one of their bag-men."

_((We must contact the Head of—))_

"_No_," Sunry said forcefully, startling the alien. "If we use official channels, those teenagers are dead. The sith will destroy them, and any evidence that they ever stepped foot within the Embassy. The Sith _must not_ know we are coming."

_((You have a plan, I presume, human?)) _Shaelas asked.

"I do… but I'll need some things, to ensure the Sith cannot simply make the evidence disappear…" Sunry said quietly.

((()))

Bastila paused outside the equipment room, and opened it. The room was deserted. Kyle swept it anyway, force of habit. This room held four suits.

Bastila, Ergeron, the Iridonian, and HK-47 remained, to suit up.

The rest of the group continued on to the second air lock, escorted by Juhani, Canderous, and three mercs.

_Why the hell am I doing this?_ Kyle wondered, pulling the bulky EV suit on over his armor.

_I hate water_.

This would be as bad as Doraab III, when his dropship had taken fire and crashed into one of the planet's shallow oceans… three hundred meters from shore. _Shallow_ was also a relative term. And here he was, about to wade across a damned ocean bed, two kilometers below the surface, with nothing but this scuffed yellow EV suit to keep him alive. He did note though, that a sonic emitter had been mounted to the left vambrace. Similar to a sonic pistol, it was a defensive weapon for underwater use, and would be of _some_ use against the sharks.

"Have you done this before, sir?" Cpl. Ranner asked nervously.

"Once, but that was at a depth of only one hundred meters, in commando armor," Kyle grunted.

The human merc ignored the republic soldiers, slipping into the third EV suit.

The escort team waited until they entered the air lock, and began to make their way back to the control room.

Kyle felt Bastila sitting on his shoulder, and she wondered if he was ready. He gave her the equivalent of a _thumbs up_, and felt her acknowledge him. This Force stuff had its uses, sometimes. Except for the nightmares. He still couldn't get the Kashyyyk vision, with Bastila's death out of his head.

"Beginning sequence," Kyle said. He activated the atmosphere cycling. As water began to flow into the chamber, he double checked his sonic emitter.

Even with the jamming field, tight beam line-of-sight com signals would still be able to pierce it, as long as they stayed less than a hundred meters apart.

He checked that the jets on his back were primed and active, then waited.

((()))

"Did you find them?" Jolee asked. Sunry nodded, "Karr Aldan. He has an apartment in the south quarter. Apparently, he got lovesick, and fled the Jedi order as a padawan, and married a refugee from the mandalorian wars he met on Dantooine. He joined the Sith when they started this war… and according to a journal that was _very_ well concealed, his wife is currently staying with distant family on Corellia… although there are Sith watchdogs _protecting _her," Sunry reported, as they walked.

"So… are you going to just let them kill her, when they find out you turned Karr?" Jolee challenged.

"No… not _Karr_…" Sunry said grimly.

((()))

Xor walked near the middle of the group, thinking furiously on how to capture his rightful property. The mandalorian with them was an unknown. Too heavily armed and armored to risk negotiating with. Caska, the aqualish mercenary would follow his lead, as well as V'runn, the twi'lek merc. Now he needed an opportunity.

They were approaching one of the pressure doors, and Xor looked at his confederates meaningfully. They nodded. The Cathar raised her head, as if hearing something, and Xor fired his sonic pistol, on wide dispersal stun setting. Nothing to block with a lightsaber, no defense. The mandalorian was in the lead, and staggered. Although his helmet was no doubt insulated, it couldn't block _all_ of the stun pulse. Xor lunged forward, dragging the Cathar back over the door, and shouted at Caska to seal the door.

He threw his unconscious prize over his shoulder, and led the way back to the subs.

Canderous fought to regain his feet, having lost his sense of equilibrium. Damned traitorous _hut'une_… He slammed into the wall, and used it to hold himself up as he staggered forward. Comlinks were jammed. He couldn't warn the others. It was up to _him_. No one shot him in the back and lived to boast about it. Some Selkath charged at him, and Ordo hosed them down with blaster fire, not trusting himself in melee combat.

((()))

_When I said I'd help, I didn't think it would involve swimming…_ Jolee thought sourly, as he followed Karr's instructions. Apparently, there was an entrance designed for Selkath, to avoid detection by typical authorities… it was just really far underwater. The Sith used a mini-submersible… and Jolee was using magnetic boots, and an EV suit that was probably older than his self imposed exile on Kashyyyk. At least, it smelled like it hadn't been cleaned in that amount of time. A firaxa sliced towards him, curious about his digestibility. Jolee flicked his fingers, _shoo_.

The firaxa decided it needed to _shoo_. In the _other_ direction.

((()))

_This is the dumbest thing I've ever done_. Kyle realized… and he had pulled some pretty stupid stunts during his career. Most of them had paid off, or not gotten him hurt _too_ badly… He activated his suit's helmet mounted flood-lights. The two men with him followed suit. Slowly, the air lock opened.

"Stay tight," Kyle reminded his group, goosing his jets, shooting forward. The EV suits were armored, to protect the user from the extreme pressure, but he wondered how well it would stand up…

"Lookout!" Someone screamed, and a sonic pulse rippled through the water, slamming into a five meter shark, killing it.

Kyle could hear chatter from Bastila's group, but blocked it out, pushing the water jet's throttle full-out.

He fired, hitting a charging shark in the face, clumsily side slipping the carcass. He aimed and fired again, but the emitter didn't activate. Kyle noticed a sequence of three lights on the gauntlet, which slowly turned green, and when he pulled the internal trigger again, the weapon fired. He guessed the delay between shots was one and a half seconds. They were skirting the main swarm of sharks, but dozens still took notice of them, and pursued.

"Damn, I'm hit," the mercenary panted.

"We're almost there," Kyle snarled. The airlock was open, ready to cycle.

"Suit integrity was compromised, my—" the rest was cut off.

Loss of suit integrity would result in rapid _compression_.

Two men coasted into the airlock, and crouched, shooting at any shark that came too close… but the sharks had a new target, swarming around the drifting body of the dead mercenary.

A few minutes later a quartet of divers arrived. Bastila was using both her sonic emitter, and Force powers, to drive the sharks away from her people. The air lock was cramped with six suits, but no one complained. Kyle had lost a man, and didn't even know his name. For some reason, that bothered him almost as much as losing him.

((()))

"Okay. I'm inside, what now?" Jolee asked grumpily.

"The airlock code is zeta 245698 alpha," a female voice said, "You better not be tweak'n my nose about this, Elassa… or else we'll be having some rather pointed words…" Jolee growled.

"Just do as you're told," _Elassa _snapped.

With a sigh, Jolee shrugged, and tapped in the code. With a reluctant whine, the air lock began to close, to begin cycling the water out. This just might work…

((()))

Xor ducked into the sub bay. There should have been four mercs guarding the sub… but it was apparent the Selkath had been here.

"Get the sub started!" he told Caska, who was a decent enough pilot.

Juhani slowly came back to consciousness, fighting to wake.

She was vaguely aware of her surroundings. Someone was touching her, stroking her facial fur. The scent in her nostrils filled her with half remembered memories of fear.

"So much like your mother," the voice whispered hungrily.

What?

Juhani's eyes snapped open, and she struggled against the ties around her wrists and ankles. Reacting on instinct. If she'd been calmer, and less disorientated… she could have freed herself. It never became an issue.

"Wriggle all you want, worm, it just makes the… conquest… sweeter," the monster chuckled, reaching for the neckline of her tunic.

Blaster fire slammed into the twi'lek beside the monster, and the monster spun, raising a heavy blaster. A mandalorian blurred into the troop compartment of the sub. The monster fired, knocking the blaster from the mandalorian's hand before an armored boot knocked the monster's weapon away. The two men wrestled for possession of the mandalorian's knife, rolling over Juhani (which hurt), and crashing into the seats. The monster gasped, trying to pull the knife out of his armpit. Juhani was almost back to normal. The mercenary in the cockpit surrendered. She was surprised by how quick the entire fight had begun and ended.

"Heh, your friend seems to have defeated me, Cathar, but I'll have the last laugh in the end…" the monster wheezed.

"What do you mean?" Juhani sneered, snapping the plastic ties around her wrists and ankles with the Force.

"I had the pleasure of killing off your species… and seeing your world burn," the monster gasped.

"You are…" words failed to describe how contemptible and disgusting this creature was.

"I killed your people in the sky, on the ground, in their homes. I hunted them down like the animals they were!" the monster spat, fine saliva hitting the teenage cathar's face. Silent tears slipped down her face, as this monster pulled out the darkest memories of her childhood, and pissed on them.

"I ended up in the Lower City of Taris, and what did I find? A few of those stinking beasts living there! The male was easy enough to best, and the female proved… intoxicating… but _you_ ran away."

"You... you deserve to die!" Juhani hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're no better than me! You're nothing!" the monster giggled, until a coughing fit struck him.

"Get out," Canderous said bluntly. The teenager fled, and Canderous sat down in one of the seats, staring down at the _dar'manda_. "You are _dar'manda_," Canderous declared, stripping the man of ever entering the _manda (afterlife)_, "So says Canderous of Clan Ordo. If I speak falsely, then may I take his place."

The twi'lek stared at him in shock.

"Now, my friend made a promise… but he's not here… so I guess it falls to me," Canderous said, yanking his knife from the dying alien's armpit.

He fulfilled Kyle's promise. The twi'lek even survived through most of it.

When he was finished, Ordo looked up at the aqualish, cowering in the cockpit, "Come on, _chakaar_, we've got _ghaal_ to kill," Ordo tossed the alien's blaster back, and holstered his own blaster before he climbed out of the sub.

"I… thank you," the cathar said, head bowed in shame.

"Next time, don't let them catch you," he said, returning her lightsaber.

"I almost… I almost lost myself again," Juhani said, still frightened by how close she had come to returning to the dark side.

"_Jetii, Dar'jetti…_ not really a whole lot of difference…" Ordo shrugged.

"Why did you save me?" Juhani asked, curious.

"Just keeping a promise. Nothing personal," Canderous assured her, picking _ord'ika_ up off the deck, and securing the depleted weapon to his back. For some reason, that actually made her feel better.

((()))

"Take a left at the next hallway. The Selkath should be at the end of the hall, in the dormitory," Elassa said.

"So, what's the plan? Just wake them up, and scoot?" Jolee asked.

"If you like," Elassa sighed.

Great… youngsters were _never_ happy when woken. Especially Sith youngsters. Jolee anticipated lightning in his near future.

((()))

Kyle and Ergeron took point. There were _fewer_ bloodstains on this side of the facility, and so far, no Selkath. HK-47 hung towards the back of the group as a rearguard, with the rest of the group in between.

"Where are they?" Kyle whispered, getting nervous. The Selkath had to be here somewhere, _something_ had killed people here. Kyle glanced at the map on his pad, and took a left at the next intersection, arriving at a secured laboratory door.

"Ma'am?" Kyle said, gesturing to the door.

Bastila pulled out her universal key, igniting it.

Kyle and Ergeron kicked the rectangle, and stepped through into the next room. They were in a laboratory of some sort. A containment field, used for isolation of dangerous or fragile substances had been erected in the middle of the laboratory. Two huddled shapes were slumped against each other, and the sterile work table. Dozens of Selkath crouched around the field, eyeing the humans within hungrily. Their heads turned in unison to look at Kyle and Ergeron.

"_Ossik,"_ both men agreed. They opened fire more or less at the same time.

"_Bastila!"_ Kyle called. The woman slipped past him, her cloak skittering across his armor as she spun, igniting both blades of her lightsaber. She finally had enough room to fight. Two Selkath had snuck along the expensive scanning equipment, flanking the group. One tackled Cpl. Ranner, and the other tried to tackle Ergeron. The mandalorian ejected a bayonet from his carbine, and skewered the attacker without missing a beat. HK-47 rescued the trapped trooper with a precise blast to the cranial vault of the Selkath.

The Iridonian was already halfway across the room, a pair of knives in both hands, brawling with wild abandon. He took heavy hits from his enemies… however he simply didn't _care_. Kyle heard one hit that _had_ to have broken some ribs, but the Iridonian kept reducing Selkath to pulp. Flippers and claws scrabbled on Kyle's armor. _Pay attention, don't get distracted_, Kyle rebuked himself, cracking his armored elbow into his attacker's throat.

And then it was over. Kyle peered around the room, but he relaxed when Bastila deactivated her lightsaber.

"Good woman," Ergeron observed, slapping Kyle's arm, "I'd keep her," he advised. _I would too_.

Bastila ignored the men, and appraised the man and woman, huddled together.

"Are you injured?" Bastila asked.

The man looked up blearily, she could feel how incoherent his thoughts were, flitting faster and faster, "What - what do you want? Go away! You'll let the firaxa and the Selkath in! They'll get us like they got all the others!" he whined.

"I can't help you with this containment field active. You need to lower the field," Bastila urged gently.

"No... the firaxa... the... the Selkath... I... I can't let you in. They'll get us!" the man said hysterically.

Kyle stepped up next to his commander, and made a wiggling motion with his fingers.

Bastila sighed, and waved her hand, "I'm a friend. You want to let me in. You want to lower the containment field."

It took most of her concentration to pin the man's thoughts down long enough to influence them, he'd been terrified out of his mind for days.

Slowly the man nodded, "Yes… You are a friend... You'll protect us... You won't let the firaxa eat us… You'll keep the Selkath away…" he rose, and tapped the controls on the workstation. With a whine, the field collapsed.

"You have a way with words, commander," Kyle said quietly, easing forward. He used the hand scanner from his medpac, "Malnourished and dehydrated, but no actual wounds or injuries," he reported.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Bastila asked gently, using subtle manipulation to further calm the man.

"When the Selkath went crazy I thought everyone else except me and Sami went mad. We had a few people outside the station when it happened... The... firaxan sharks just tore them apart... It was like they were frenzied... The next thing we knew our Selkath researchers started screaming and... and clawing at everything around them. My team... my team was torn apart and eaten before my eyes!"

The man started trembling again, but Bastila eased his nerves.

"I can only imagine how frightened you were," Bastila said gently.

"Sami and me... I... I thought we were the only ones left," the man admitted, hugging the woman to his side.

"Who are you?" Kyle asked. He thought he recognized the man's voice, but the static in the transmission had been pretty heavy.

"I am Kono Nolan, and this is Sami. We were scientists working here on the Hrakert Rift project."

"I'm on a mission for the Jedi Council. Logs indicated that your team found an artifact of some kind, can you tell me anything else?"

Sami nodded limply, "There were some ruins that were excavated when we were digging the foundations for the last section of the kolto harvesting machine."

Nolan shook his head vehemently, "But we can't go anywhere near those now! Maybe... maybe that's why it all happened in the first place..."

"What exactly did happen here?" Kyle asked.

"We don't know! Not for sure..." Sami protested.

"Just tell us what you think happened," Bastila soothed.

"Well… The work teams were outside in the Rift near the vent. Then there was this rumbling and my head felt like it was splitting open..." Nolan began.

"This... this monster rose up from the Rift..." Sami continued.

"It was a firaxa shark I think... bigger than any I'd ever seen before. Bigger than our submersibles," Nolan said.

"It was like it was screaming inside my head..." Sami added.

"Then all the Selkath started screaming too... and they turned on us," Nolan finished.

"Was the shark protecting something?" Bastila asked, remembering the krayt dragon.

"Well... maybe it was protecting the ruins by the Rift," Sami guessed.

"It could have been. It might have a lair in the Hrakert Rift near the kolto vent... that may explain a few things, too..." Nolan mused.

"Like what?" Kyle asked.

"Like why it reacted so violently when our construction efforts got closer to the vent. And also why it is so large. It must be feeding off the kolto. It would have to be ancient indeed for it to reach that size. But with kolto as a food source..." Nolan answered, lost in thought.

"And all those other firaxan sharks! Those might be its offspring!" Sami added.

"Which would explain why they all swarmed when it called out to them... Children coming to protect their mother," Nolan guessed.

"How could you miss something that big living there?" Cpl. Ranner asked from his position by the door.

"I don't know. It seems impossible, but... Maybe what ever sort of power it used to drive the Selkath insane masked it from us somehow... or maybe it was lying dormant deeper in the Rift," Nolan shrugged.

"So… what can we do about this shark?" Bastila asked.

"The firaxan sharks have always been a serious problem. We had some sonic emitters and projectile cannons to defend against them, but they still got some of our workers from time to time," Nolan explained.

"We were working on a soluble chemical compound that would drive them away. Something that smelled or tasted repulsive to them, but we never got it working right," Sami continued.

"I think not! Even flawed like it is, it should be ideal for this situation!" Nolan interrupted.

"No! It's not working right! You don't know what it will do!" Sami argued.

"What does this compound do, exactly?" Kyle asked.

"The repellant we made was supposed to drive firaxan sharks away, but we never got very far in its development. The one we tested instead was violently toxic to them, rupturing their outer skin in seconds and preventing them from drawing oxygen from the water by clogging their intakes," Sami said.

"That sounds _very_ useful," Ergeron muttered.

"Which is exactly what we need in this situation! Something to kill that monster shark that destroyed our station!" Nolan shouted.

"But we don't know how else the chemical reacts! We only tried it in a controlled environment. In the open ocean, who knows what it could do... it could even affect the _kolto_," Sami whispered, frightened.

"We know exactly what it will do: it will kill the shark. That's what we designed it to do," Nolan said briskly.

"Commander, can I have a word?" Kyle asked. He jerked his head towards a corner of the lab, away from the arguing scientists.

When they were mostly out of earshot, Kyle slipped off his helmet, to better facilitate a whispered conversation.

"We can't use the poison," he said.

"I agree, but give me your reasoning," Bastila whispered back.

"Manaan is the only source of _kolto_, without it, a lot of people on both sides will die, and since the Sith mostly use droids, the loss would hurt our forces more. We can't risk it," Kyle whispered.

"Interesting. I hadn't thought of that," Bastila said.

"What were your reasons?" Kyle asked.

"This facility was built over a period of months, but this creature never attacked until they disturbed the ruins. If we removed the machinery, the creature might return to its lair," Bastila said.

Kyle looked skeptical, the thick scar along his jawbone giving him a permanent smirk, even when dead serious.

"See anything you like?" he teased, giving her a real smirk.

"You are the most arrogant man I've ever met," Bastila replied easily.

"Did I hit a nerve?" Kyle asked, fumbling for his helmet.

"_Hit_ a nerve? No. Getting _on_ my nerves, most definitely," Bastila concluded.

"I yield," Kyle chuckled, sealing his helmet… once again a faceless soldier of the Republic… and her friend.

That realization troubled her. She'd never had a friend before. Acquaintances, surely, and friends in the briefest sense of the word, but this… this was a true friendship. Kyle was privy to her emotions and feelings in a way no one else could ever claim, and the reverse was true as well. Beneath his fear of the ocean, and being submerged, he was also worried about her, and… somewhat _hungry,_ contemplating his emergency rations idly.

Bastila returned to the scientists, "We can't risk harming the kolto. I'm sorry, Nolan," she apologized.

"Is there some way to remotely remove the machinery you installed in the Rift?"

Nolan stared stonily at his feet. Bastila looked at Sami.

"Well… You can reprogram the harvesting machines to overpressure their self-oxidizing fuel, so that the fuel tank cannisters will rupture and the entire machine will destroy itself…" she suggested.

"What's the fuel source?" Kyle asked.

"Hydrolium gas," Sami admitted.

Kyle whistled softly, "That's pretty unstable. Why not quadracilit… or tritinum?"

"This station needed to be as self sufficient as possible, to reduce traffic, and the chance of discovery. There's a nearby Hydrolium vent we tapped for fuel," Sami explained.

"But we'll lose everything we've built here, months of work!" Nolan burst out, unable to remain silent.

"It's better than whatever your chemical will do to the water!" Sami snarled.

"I can reconfigure the tanks to explode remotely, but our sonic emitters won't do much against something as large as this guardian," Kyle said softly.

"Trust in the Force," Bastila advised him.

"Oh, I trust you, but I think the Force could do with a little help."

((()))

_((Should we sound the alarm, Shasa?)) _the Selkath on the left asked. Somehow, Jolee didn't see this conversation ending with everyone running for the airlock…

The Selkath were male, except for the oldest of the group, who was clearly the defacto leader…

_((No. We should handle this on our own)) _Shasa decided.

Perhaps he could awe them with the voice of reason?

"Shaelas is looking for you…" Jolee said slowly.

_((I told you your father would get suspicious, Shasa! He always hated the Sith!))_ the male on the left hissed.

Shasa shook her head in frustration, _((My father is blinded by his own prejudice!))_

"Well… fathers tend to do that when daughters mysteriously vanish," Jolee pointed out helpfully.

_((Our alliance with the Sith will bring strength to Manaan and the Selkath people!))_ the male on the right said defensively.

"The Sith don't make _alliances._ They don't have _allies._ They have servants, and slaves," Jolee snorted.

_((Republic propaganda. They are not monsters - no more so than the Republic)) _Shasa retorted angrily.

_((The Sith have promised to guide us in the use of the Force, as a sign of their good faith. And once the Republic is defeated, the Sith have promised to withdraw from Manaan and respect our independence))_ the male on the left said smugly.

Jolee started laughing. He couldn't help it. _Were we all so young once?_

_((Do not mock us))_, Shasa snapped.

"You're so blind, you can't even see the bars of your prison," Jolee said, shaking his head. It looked like they were back to re-kidnapping… which would prove difficult.

_((You speak as if we are prisoners here, but we can leave whenever we wish! Our friend Galas chose to leave, just yesterday, and he returned safely to his home)) _Shasa said coldly.

"Actually… no," Elassa interrupted, startling Jolee, and the selkath.

_((Who is that?))_ Shasa demanded.

Jolee listened for a few seconds.

"Alright class, _field trip!_" he said, walking out of the dormitory. The Selkath looked to Sasha. She decided the old human was probably insane… but they couldn't let him out of their sight without killing him. It would be irresponsible. So they followed.

((()))

"—I repeat, Captain Onasi, can you read me?" Bastila's voice erupted from the terminal Mission had propped her elbows on.

"Jeez!" she yelped, hastily lowering the volume.

"This is Onasi," Carth replied.

"Good. We disabled the jammer… and we need a favor," Bastila said.

"I'm not going to like, this, am I?" Carth said.

"Probably not," Kyle agreed.

((()))

Following Elassa's instructions, Jolee unlocked a hidden door, and pushed it open. The lighting within began to glow, gradually reaching full intensity. The selkath from the dormitory filed in behind Jolee… and were speechless. Jolee was too, but he hid it better.

It was filled with cages… and within the wretched structures, Jolee could see nkaed Selkath, in various states of dismemberment. Then one of the wretched creatures stirred.

_((Sh…sh-asha…))_

_((Galas?))_ Shasha asked in a small voice. Jolee could feel the shock, and rage reverberating within the young alien. Galas had been important to her.

_Very_ important.

"What are you doing?" someone thundered, and the selkath cringed. A muscular man in black robes stood in the open doorway to the secret torture room…

"Well, at the moment I'd say they're looking at your betrayal. And lies," Jolee decided thoughtfully.

The Sith knight looked at Jolee, his eyes narrowing.

_Can't sense me, can you?_ Jolee thought smugly.

"What are you?" the knight asked warily.

"Just a crazy old man… with a lightsaber," Jolee said, as his emerald blade snapped to life.

"You will die, screaming," the knight promised.

"That's a distinct possibility. Let's find out," Jolee said, darting forward.

((()))

The scientists had raised the containment field, with a few extra occupants, namely Cpl. Ranner, and HK-47. Kyle pulled the EV suit back on, triple checking suit integrity.

"Nervous, sergeant?" Bastila asked.

"Terrified, actually. Let's go," Kyle replied, stepping into the airlock.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Ergeron sighed, stepping up next to the commando, facing the outer airlock door. Bastila and the Iridonian were last, keeping a wary distance between themselves. They cycled the air lock, but didn't open the outer doors, waiting for Carth to signal them. They stood like that, waiting, for almost fifteen minutes. Nobody spoke.

"This is Carth, we're at the transport. I'm sending the guards and survivor to the control room," the comlink crackled.

"Starting pre-flight checklist, should be ready in about five minutes," Carth said, cutting communication.

"Is it still a pre-flight if you're underwater?" Kyle wondered.

Bastila reached through their bond, trying to ease some of her friend's fear, but although he appreciated what she was doing, there was also an emphatic request to cease and desist. The gist of his telepathic communication was he _needed_ that fear. It didn't make sense to her, but then again, she wasn't a commando.

Proximity increased the acuity of the bond, she noticed.

"Alright, I'm launching. I'll contact you when I have Ugly's attention," Carth said, startling Bastila.

Thirty seconds later, "Enough, _I see it_, Juhani!" Carth snapped, "Commander, go-go-go!" he yelped.

Kyle punched the door key, and the air lock groaned open. Four EV suits shot out of the lock, kicking up plumes of sand as they sped across the sea bed, towards the Hrakert rift. Kyle's head lamps picked out the massive machinery perched precariously at the edge of the rift. They almost reached the machinery before the Firaxa sharks even noticed them… but only a few peeled off from the school to attack them, most were trying to hem Carth's submersible in, so that the guardian could kill it… so far without success. Kyle reached the spider-like equipment, which had multiple duratanium anchors suspending it out over the rift. Some of the anchors hadn't been installed yet, making the structure look cockeyed. It shifted when Kyle landed on it, groaning slightly.

The others landed around him, and took aim, ready to fire at anything that came into view. Firaxa sharks could move at roughly eight meters a second. Visibility was between eighteen and twenty meters. That meant you had slightly more than two seconds to spot the shark, and kill it before it got to you. However, that was assuming you weren't Force sensitive, able to detect hostile intent directed at you, and with enhanced reflexes.

Kyle's EV suit had been designed for underwater construction duties, and he took full advantage of the tool belt. Even with the thick, stubby fingers of the suit, he was able to manipulate the tools with enough proficiency to open up the innards of the machine.

Now… he'd done something similar to an orbital refueling depot. It had been a last minute screw up, the demolition charges had lacked sufficient punch to detonate the depot, so he and Ricki had gotten creative, with nearly a hundred mandalorian warriors coming after them. EVA combat was terrifying and intense.

Hydrolium gas was relatively stable in its gas form, at 1-3 million sangen. If the pressure increased to 4 million sangen, then it became a liquid. Any pressure past 4 million sangen resulted in an inert solid, which was useless.

As a liquid, Hydrilium was at its most dangerous. Any electrical current applied would excite the fuel, and cause an explosion, pound for pound, almost as impressive as baradium. He didn't want to destroy the entire facility though, just this machine… so he'd have to _guess_ how much fuel he needed in the tanks, and purge the rest into the water.

There were seven fuel canisters, and Kyle calmly checked on their contents. It was the focus of a professional. He knew there were things trying to kill him, but he trusted his teammates to watch his back. For safety reasons, each canister had its own fuel line, but that wouldn't work for Kyle's purposes. He sealed the tanks, and spliced several fuel lines in sequence, joining three of the tanks into a single interconnected unit. Kyle activated a back flush of the primary fuel line that led to the offsite gas extractor, using sea water. That would play hell with the mining equipment, but he didn't have time to worry about that, he couldn't afford the explosion to reach the gas mine, or else there might be a _new_ rift next to the Hrakert rift. Kyle leaned away from the open panel, checking the pressure readings of the three tank's contents on the control panel.

The contents registered at 1.3 million sangen… which if he combined them would register at 3.9 million sangen. He spliced a line from a fourth tank into one of the tanks, and commenced a force flush from one into the other… he kept a steady eye on the pressure gage, his hand hovering over the cut off valve.

1.3 million sangen…

1.35 million sangen…

1.375 million sangen…

1.3875 million sangen…

1.395 million sangen…

Kyle punched the button, sealing the tanks. He quickly primed the tubing, double checking the strength of the seals, and purged the fuel from the four tanks he didn't need. With that accomplished, he connected the three remaining tank fuel lines to a salvaged four-way connector, fastening it to one of the empty tanks, purged the sea water from it, creating a vacuum, and set the pumps to transfer the contents from the three full tanks into the fourth empty tank.

If the seals held, and the pumps didn't break down, the resulting pressure in the fourth tank would be 3.995 million sangen. While he kept half an eye on the progress of the pumps, Kyle began the laborious process of reconfiguring the flash-back capacitor from the safety system into a crude electrical detonator. He welded a power cable directly from the capacitor to the fuel tank, not really worried about insulating it. This wasn't a precision job.

((()))

"Well, I suppose you were wrong," Jolee told the headless body. He inspected a few burn marks on his tunic thoughtfully, but was unharmed.

_((Sasha… we cannot remain here))_ one of the males said, gently tugging the girl away from the cooling body of Galas. She had a bloody pin clutched in her hand… apparently, Galas had been holding it.

_((We will drive the Sith from our world, with their own powers))_ Sasha said coldly.

This was probably the part where he was supposed to say something suitably Jedi-like, and discourage them from seeking vengeance, Jolee realized.

"Uh… just be careful with those gifts you've already learned. Beware the dark side... or you may end up betraying your world regardless… and so on and so forth. You get the idea," Jolee said.

((()))

"Left!" Juhani barked, and Carth threw the sub into a port spiral. With so much _shark_ swarming around him, the sonar was useless, and he couldn't locate the real threat. Juhani could, however. The sub trembled from another brush with the giant shark, once again emerging dented, but alive. He wondered how much longer Bastila needed… because he was running out of tricks. "Down!"

Something scraped the hull, and a warning light started flashing on Carth's panel.

"Juhani, seal off the cockpit," Carth snapped.

The emergency bulkhead wasn't rated for this depth. If the hull to the troop compartment was breached… it wouldn't be long before the cockpit flooded too…

((()))

Bastila didn't ask Kyle how much longer. It would distract him, without accomplishing anything. He would tell her when he was finished. She sensed the next shark, lifted the sonic emitter.

_Now_.

Bastila fired, trusting the Force's guidance, and the predator had barely appeared in view before it died. The mandalorian and Iridonian crouched close beside her, their backs almost touching Kyle. Together they formed something of a loose triangle.

"Alright, it's not pretty, but it'll do. We have about three minutes after I push this button to get back into an airlock," Kyle grunted.

"Do it," Bastila ordered, killing another Firaxa.

"Alright, it's active." Kyle said.

((()))

The explosion instantly consumed a twenty meter bubble, atomizing it in a high temperature explosion, very similar to a thermal detonator. This annihilated the harvester, most of its anchors, and took a large chunk out of the rift wall. Then the shockwave came, conducted by the water. Any shark within forty meters died from internal trauma to critical organs. All sharks between forty and two hundred meters from the blast were left floating, stunned, to various degrees depending on proximity. It also shook Carth and Juhani mercilessly in the sub. The giant shark shot past the transport, towards the source of the explosion. It circled the devastated area for several seconds, and slowly entered the mouth of an underwater cave.

The firaxa sharks were also sluggishly dispersing.

"Commander, I think it worked…" Carth said.

"I'll be damned…"

"We're leaking," Juhani reported grimly. The breach wasn't significant… just a loosened weld… but with the amount of force being exerted upon them, the transport would be flooded within minutes… and then, the emergency bulkhead would crumple.

Back to the station. _Best_ possible speed, Carth decided.

((()))

Sunry was waiting when Jolee returned.

"Well, did it work?" the wizened Jedi asked.

"Selkath authorities were waiting when the children emerged, and told them the most _interesting _story," Sunry said calmly sipping at his beverage, and reading his datapad.

"Apparently, the Sith have been capturing Force Sensitive Selkath and brainwashing them, as well as torturing the washouts to death. Of course, the Sith deny all of this... claiming rogue elements planted evidence for the Republic…"

"So they're stuck with their hand in the sweets container, and are _insisting_ that the republic not only at all the candy, but jammed their hand in the jar as well?" Jolee chuckled.

"The selkath have moved the case to the head of the docket. I believe its being referred to as _The Sith Empire vs Manaan_," Sunry smiled.

"So… who is this _Elassa_ woman?" Jolee asked.

"A monster… who will soon be dealt with," Sunry said calmly, scrolling to the next page.

"Out with the old, in with the new?" Jolee asked sharply.

"Karr is a much better operative… and with more work, may prove to be even more useful than Elassa ever was," Sunry shrugged.

"So… why did you insist on all the comm. chatter?" Jolee asked. He knew why, he just wanted Sunry to admit it.

"One of her rivals was executed for incriminating evidence she planted, a comlink transmission that never happened. You were using a similar encryption key… anyone with intelligence would notice their familiarity… and come to the conclusion that they were created by the same person. Once it's broken, Elassa will be exposed as the traitor."

"Very tidy… so… did you have an affair with this woman?" Jolee asked casually.

"You're asking if I cheated on Elora with that Sith slut?" Sunry asked.

Jolee nodded. Sunry frowned, thinking about it for several seconds.

"No," he decided, "I didn't. I love Elora… and I _protect_ the things I love," Sunry said softly.

"You need to tell Elora, about your current employment," Jolee said firmly.

"I… It's better this way. I don't want her to worry," Sunry faltered.

"Tell her, or you will lose her. Tell her now. Don't wait, or she might not be there when you go home," Jolee said gravely, before he left the café, pulling up his hood, and disappeared out of Sunry's life, again, with the abruptness that had become Jolee Bindo's hallmark. He'd never been one for goodbyes of any sort.

Sunry stared at the comlink for a long time. He selected the first preset in its memory, and activated it.

"Honey? We need to talk…"

((()))

The laboratory was a scene of confused chaos as Nolan and Sami scrambled to back up their research data, and download the information onto a portable computer core. In the control room, Mission was doing the same. If the Sith discovered the defunct base, they would have a powerful tool for imposing tariffs on the Republic. So the teams were scrubbing the information, and getting ready to demolish the base. Most of the debris would be lost in the Hrakert rift.

"I'm coming with you," Kyle said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

"You don't need to, sergeant. I can do this alone, I—"

"You're oblivious when you download Star maps. I'm coming with you, to watch your back," Kyle said, stepping into the airlock with her, suited up.

The journey to the rift was still nerve wracking, but most of the Firaxa school had disbanded, scattering to the currents, looking for prey. It was easy enough for Bastila to divert the handful of hungry sharks away with subtle mind tricks.

The pair dropped down the rift, and Bastila could feel the distant presence of the darkside… but it was nowhere near as strong as she'd felt from the other Star Maps. Kyle's fear was increasing however, making it hard to concentrate. He didn't like caves, and he didn't like being submerged. She sensed that these fears had been _acquired _during Kyle Draven's career.

"Sergeant, try to relax," Bastila said softly.

"I'm trying," Kyle said tightly… but when she touched his mind, she felt a _second_ presence as well… as if Kyle was casting a shadow against a wall… but the shadow was slightly out of phase with his movements.

_And for a moment the shadow touched back._

Bastila hastily withdrew from the bond, rattled. There were several work lamps set up on a ledge below, and the pair tapped their jets, drifting closer. The cave was _huge_. Bastila followed the darkside emanations, the spot lamps on her helmet rig cutting swathes of light in the darkness, as she maneuvered forward. Her toes drifted a few centimeters above the silt, which was disturbed into little ripples by her passage.

The tunnel suddenly opened up into a massive chamber. It reminded her of the cave that was not _truly_ a cave on tattooine… but here, the inverted pyramids in the ceiling did not glow green… they glowed with a ghostly blue light… and no coral or barnacles, or any life, really, grew upon the structures within, leaving them as they had been the day their creators vanished. Admittedly, sediment had built up, and now coated much of the surfaces, but the planes were still identifiably angular.

"There's no current or circulation within the cave," Kyle observed, glancing at the sensors on his suit's vambrace.

"Wait… I'm getting something," Kyle said.

Bastila sensed the approach of a massive mind. Something alien, but also… familiar.

Pictures and emotions pressed into her mind, like some kind of mental assault. Bastila raised her defenses, cutting off the barrage, but Kyle had no such protection.

"Too much… too much," he panted. His mind was breaking, Bastial realized. She reopened their bond, and forced herself into his mind as well… and this time, there was no mistaking the shadow that stood behind Kyle, that held out its hand, as if holding back the sea itself.

_Help me, _the shadow whispered, its frail strength beginning to twist and weaken beneath the assault. It was but a shade of Revan, and not the man himself. Bastila placed her hand upon Kyle's shoulder, and raised her hand as well, lending strength where she could… and the walls hardened.

_It was not an attack, _the shadow whispered weakly.

_It is how she speaks… but her mind is too vast, and she knows not how to whisper_, the shade finished, before dissipating like smoke.

Bastila crouched within Kyle's mind, as the giant Firaxa approached, powerless. She could not move, or use her powers _and_ protect them both from its mental voice.

Even through the shields, she still perceived the pictures, and emotions, but only one in a hundred.

Bastila reached down, into herself, and found her core… and took a chance, forcing her feelings of friendship with Kyle, Juhani… with Mission… past her shield… and the flow of images faltered, for a moment. For a long time, the enormous eyes above the fanged maw watched them, still thinking at them.

Bastila was beginning to understand, from the flow of pictures. This creature had not been born a sentient… it was an animal… but it's basic intelligence had grown over the millennia, as the power of the Star Map twisted it, and the kolto sustained it. It had sired many children. Most stayed true to their mother… but some had grown apart, had learned to breathe the dry emptiness above, to speak with sounds instead of thoughts… it still thought as an animal did, with instinct, but everything about it was amplified, to the point of sentience. It had no language, it needed none, nor did it have use for symbols. Its thoughts were raw, bestial… and it was a product of the Dark Side… but that did not define all that it was… for it was a predator, a part of the natural order…

And it could choose _not_ to kill… for it was not hungry, and they were no threat.

Finally, the massive creature rose to the top of the chamber, and Bastila felt the barrage lessen, as the creature's thoughts dimmed, and it returned to its dormancy, now that the threat had passed. Bastila shakily withdrew from Kyle, uncomfortable with the intimacy. She had not been brushing his mind with her fingers, she had been full immersed within it, cheek to jowl, as it were… almost like twins within a womb.

"That was… different," Kyle said slowly, now that he had room in his head to think.

"Hurry. Let us be about our business, before the leviathan decides we are a threat," Bastila said, gathering the tattered remnants of her composure.

((()))

"Come on, professor," Mission said, rolling her eyes.

"I plan to launch a formal inquiry into your actions!" Nolan sputtered.

The slicer ignored the upset scientist, herding him into the transport. Juhani and Bastila had already swept both sections of the base, looking for survivors, but there weren't any… and the selkath were _still_ insane. The self-destruct was activated, and they now had forty minutes to get the hell away from here. It was a little cramped in the sub, as they launched for Ahto city. Since the alternative was to get reduced to chum, no one complained… although Mission noticed that Bastila was sitting as far away from Kyle as possible… and Juhani was hiding in the cockpit, with Carth.

((()))

"You have returned! I was beginning to fear that you, too, might have been lost. Did you find out what had happened down there at the facility?" the ambassador asked, the minute the sub hatch lowered.

"Out of the way," Canderous grunted, pushing the man aside, so that the wounded could be carried to the infirmary.

"What happened?" Roland asked, stunned by the blood. He spotted a familiar face, one of the lead scientists, Kono Nolan.

"Doctor Nolan, what happened in the facility?" Roland demanded.

"The Selkath went insane, they killed… almost everyone," the scientist whispered.

"Why?" Roland asked.

"We woke something up with our construction," the dark haired woman beside the scientist said harshly.

"The entire operation wasted by a disaster we could never have foreseen…" Roland said miserably, "What of the facility itself? Can we finish construction?"

"Well… it's in a lot of pieces, all over the place," a young twi'lek said brightly.

"We blew it up on our way out."

_What?!_

"No! That will set our work back _years..._ It may even cost us the war…" Roland sputtered.

"Maybe… but now the Sith won't find it, and you won't get in tons of trouble," the girl pointed out.

She had a point…

((()))

"So where were you?" Mission demanded, glaring at the old geezer… who was sleeping in a hammock in the port cargo bay.

"Me?" Jolee asked, nonplussed.

"You didn't answer your comlink," Mission shouted, holding the device in question under Jolee's nose, "_Oh…_ so that's what the infernal thing was making such a racket about…"

Mission puffed up, "There was all kinds of scary shit down there!"

"Well then, I'm _very_ glad I didn't answer," Jolee said. Mission stomped and snarled, and called him several nasty names, but eventually she _did_ leave, and Jolee was able to go back to sleep. He was old, and tired, damn it.

((()))

"A moment of your time?" a man said, sidling up beside Bastila. She recognized the _friend _of Roland's.

"Was there something you needed?" Bastila enquired.

"Actually, it's something that might interest _you_," Sunry said.

"Me?" Bastila asked.

"A woman recently arrived by private courier shuttle, and was admitted to one of the more… _advanced_ medical centers," Sunry said, handing a datapad to her.

Bastila activated the display, and stared at the screen. A familiar face looked up at her, although age had added lines, and gray to her hair. Bastila glanced at the name: Helena _Shan_.

"Mother…" Bastila said coolly.

"Her prognosis was part of the medical files I procured," Sunry said pointedly, before leaving. What she did with the information was her own affair. The man in the shadows nodded to Sunry, and the spy nodded back stiffly. His favor was repaid.

((()))

Kyle looked up the second Bastila boarded the ship.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Ever since the cave, he was having trouble _ignoring_ her emotions… like the straw that connected them had widened into a pipe.

"My… mother. She is here, and she is dying," Bastila said distantly, contemplating the datapad in her hand.

"We can wait for you to get back," Kyle said quietly, heading towards the cockpit, to inform Carth.

"I'm not sure that will be necessary," Bastila said.

"Why not?" Kyle asked, startled.

"I… I was never on good terms with my mother…" Bastila said awkwardly.

"She's still your _mother_," Kyle said, at a loss.

"A large part of me would rather I never see her again," Bastila admitted.

For a moment, Kyle caught a glimpse of something that lurked within the woman. Something broken, that hid miserably from view, suppressed and buried by years of meditation and training. Something dangerous.

"Bastila… you need this," Kyle said quietly, holding her gaze.

((()))

The journey to the hospital was quiet, but Bastila was glad Kyle had come. She did not know if she could have faced her mother again… alone. The Selkath receptionist directed them to a ward on the seventh floor. Bastila felt an achingly familiar presence in the room beyond, and found she could not pass through the door. Kyle waited patently, watching her. She did not know how long she would have stood there, if a nurse had not come bursting out of the room.

"That... human woman! I am... outraged at her arrogance. You! Do all of your species place yourselves on such annoying pedestals!" the ithorian demanded, it's words translated into Basic by the vocodor around its neck. Kyle did not think he'd ever seen one of the aliens _enraged_ before. It was certainly a first.

"Excuse me?" Bastila asked, confused.

"You should be sorry for sharing a species with that... that _creature,_" the nurse hissed, as it stormed off down the hall.

"I believe we have the correct room. My mother often has this effect," Bastila said reluctantly.

"After you," Kyle shrugged.

Bastila took a fortifying breath, and steeled herself… then stepped into the next room.

The woman on the bio bed glanced up from her holozine. Kyle immediately saw the resemblance. Mostly the nose and mouth… and although the eyes were physically identical, they were nothing alike. This woman had lived with bitterness for a long time.

"As I said before, I'll not eat this slop. Bring me real food, from a _respectable _eatery," Helena Shan sniffed.

"Hello, mother," Bastila said quietly. The woman's gaze sharpened, taking on an almost predatory glint.

"You do not recognize me," Bastila said.

Helena Shan snorted, "What do you expect, when I haven't so much as had a picture of you since you left?"

"You knew as well as I communication would be difficult once I joined the order," Bastila said, fighting to keep her voice controlled and calm.

"Difficult? _Difficult?_ A better word would be _impossible_," Helena spat.

Bastila stared at the selfish woman calmly, "Where is father?"

A flicker of genuine grief flitted across the aristocratic features, as she unconsciously touching something beneath her hospital gown.

"Clearly, you haven't heard," Helena said loftily.

"What have I not heard?" Bastila asked coldly.

"Your father is… dead…" Helena admitted.

"Dead?" Bastila repeated numbly.

"_What did you do to him?!"_ Bastila demanded.

"Isn't this a_ lovely_ reunion? Already she is flinging insults at me. Tell me... I assume you're one of her friends. Do you treat your mother this way?" Helena asked, focusing on Kyle, so that she need not look her daughter in the eye.

"My mother is dead," Kyle said stiffly.

"Is that so? Well, I'll be joining her soon enough, I suppose," Helena predicted darkly.

"Before you do, tell me what you got Father into that killed him," Bastila said coldly.

"I hadn't realized Jedi were so_ spiteful_. You want to blame me for his death?" Helena snarled, "You never accepted that your father loved going on his treasure hunts, leaving you alone with me. I was always to blame for everything, what else is new?" the volume of the argument was slowly increasing.

"_Your father_ went to look for krayt dragon pearls on Tattooine. He hired some twi'lek named Koma, or Nomad, or some such nonsense. They went into the Tattooine desert and he died," Helena said bitterly.

_Komad?_ Bastila froze, thinking back to the tracker. _I am Komad Fortuna. I had arranged to hunt such a beast, but my friend has disappeared. None of the other hunters in this lodge are his equal, and I despaired of finding others who would even consider such a venture_. His words took on new meaning with this knowledge… and Bastila understood now, why he gave her one of his precious pearls. So what, that there were seven. It had been from guilt.

"All I have is _this_ now," Helena said bitterly, pulling a chain out from under her gown, and the holodisc that hung suspended from it.

"Father's journal…" Bastila breathed.

"Yes…" Helena said tiredly.

"And _why_ was father looking for such dangerous treasure?" Bastila demanded.

"Like I said, your father—"

"_You_ were the one who pushed Father to go on one treasure hunt after the other. You loved living in wealth. You think I don't remember the fights?" Bastila shouted, her hands curled into fists.

Helena stared in shock at Bastila.

"You were eager to send me to the Jedi, even though I didn't want to go. You took Father away from me!"

Kyle turned his gaze on Bastila, as the broken thing within her reared its head at last.

"_Fool girl!_ You have a strange way of remembering things. That wasn't—" Helena began to shriek, outraged.

"Goodbye, mother," Bastila said, turning to leave, but found her way blocked.

"You cannot leave. Not yet," Kyle said firmly, as if he could see within her, and what he saw frightened _him_, as laughable as that notion was. She considered pushing past him, but a quiet voice behind her held her fast, "I was hard on you, dear. I wasn't a very good mother to you, I know that," Helena admitted. Bastila turned, and noticed for the first time, just how… _diminished_ her mother appeared.

"Your father loved you so _much_. He wanted you to be just like him... he wanted to take you on his hunts, but I said they were too dangerous," Helena said miserably. Bastila slowly edged back towards the bio-bed.

"I always tried to keep him from the dangerous ones, but he would have none of it. It was a reckless life we led, always moving... I didn't want that for you," Helena said, clutching at Bastila's hand desperately.

"So that's why you gave me to the Order?" Bastila asked, her voice still raw.

"What do your father and I have to show for all those years of hunting? _Nothing._ That was no life for anyone, especially not someone as gifted as you… _my little girl_," Helena said fiercely.

"Your father... he spent everything we had trying to pay for my treatments. That's why he went for the pearls. I begged him not to, but..." Helena trembled helplessly.

"I'm dying, Bastila. It's been a long time in the coming, and there's really nothing that can be done anymore. I told your father to let me go, but you know how he was. Stubborn. _Like you_," Helena smiled, gently cupping Bastila's face.

"I'm so sorry, Mother. I don't know what to say... all this time, I thought…" Bastila trailed off helplessly.

Helena smiled, and drew the chain off her neck, holding it out to Bastila, "Take it. Take back the years you could have had with him."

Bastila gently slipped the chain under the neckline of her tunic, the chain still warm.

"How_ did_ you pay for these treatments?" Kyle asked, curious.

"An old associate of your father found me on Tattooine, looking for him. I told him of your father's death, and he learned of my illness. Your father was a good, generous man… and he made many friends. Cal paid for everything out of pocket. He chartered a shuttle, and arranged everything," Helena said wistfully.

Kyle felt the hair's rise on the back of his neck. _Tattooine… A man named Cal… Bastila's mother… and a strangely convenient reunion… _

Kyle pulled his helmet on, and drew the pistol from his holster.

"Kyle, what's wrong?" Bastila asked, still distracted, her emotions raw, and turbulent… making her vulnerable.

"Describe this _Cal_," Kyle said tersely.

"He was a somewhat odd little man, never took his goggles off. I thought he might have prosthetics of some kind, and was embarrassed. He was very polite—"

Bastila came to the same realization that Kyle had.

_This is a trap._

Unfortunately, that was when the stun grenade, disguised as a medical sterilization unit attached to the ceiling activated.

Kyle staggered back, protected from unconsciousness by his helmet. The wall fell away as concealed micro-charges detonated, filling the air with dust and smoke. In slow motion, Kyle lunged towards Bastila, who was only inches from the edge. A small man leapt into the room, his lead foot hitting square on Kyle's breastplate, sending the commando flying into the wall. Bastila turned, instinctively throwing out a hand to blast Calo Nord back with telekinesis… and the man slapped something around her neck as her attack passed by him.

Kyle felt his awareness of Bastila shut down, instantly, as the Jedi crumpled.

_Neural Disruptor_.

Calo threw Bastila onto the back of the swoop, hastily activating the cargo restraints, and jumped on the bike, as Kyle untangled himself from the medical lines and cords. Calo tossed an object at Kyle's feet, and the commando had time to look down and dive for the door before the frag grenade exploded. The blast picked him up, and threw him across the corridor like a doll, knocking him senseless.

((()))

Calo Nord maneuvered through the commercial traffic, calmly dropping and weaving to bypass the larger cargo vehicles. His ship was submerged, three kilometers from Ahto City, beyond the sensor nets. The neural disruptor had been expensive to obtain. Calo decided to add the cost to his fee. If Lord Malak didn't appreciate that… well, there was always room for renegotiation, Calo thought calmly.

((()))

"Captain, Calo Nord has Bastila," Kyle reported, running to the edge of the floor. He spared a glance for Helena. Dead, from the shrapnel. He couldn't help her, so he turned to more important issues. He _really_ wished he had a better idea.

"Fierfeik!" Kyle roared, as he threw himself out into empty air, desperately hoping he hadn't mistimed the jump. The selkath pilot looked up, startled, as Kyle landed awkwardly in the passenger seat of the speeder.

_((By the Progenitor!)) _the pilot yelped.

"Move over!" Kyle shouted, brandishing his blaster. The selkath hastily climbed into the cargo area of the speeder, and Kyle slithered behind the controls, holstering his blaster. Now would be a really good time for a hint from the Force, Kyle thought grimly.

_THAT WAY._

"Thank you."

((()))

Carth skipped half the preflight checklist, before engaging the repulsorlifts, and jetting out of the hanger. Someone was probably going to get upset with the streak of carbon scoring left behind.

Mission strapped into the co-pilot's seat, pulling up the Ebon Hawk's sensors.

"Do you see them?" Carth asked tensely, looping over the city.

"I've got Kyle's com signal… tracking… got them!" Mission rattled off the coordinates, and Carth spun the Hawk on one edge as he banked viciously, and cut in the main drives.

((()))

Calo Nord glanced behind him, and saw a civilian speeder bearing down on him, the drive core screaming in protest as its pilot recklessly pushed it well past its design limits.

Calo returned his attention ahead, and tapped several commands into his wrist computer. A kilometer away, the water foamed, as a cant-winged shuttle rose into view. It resembled a bird of prey, or other flying predator., The boarding ramp lowered, almost like a lower jaw, and the ship maneuvered to match itself up to him. Then he heard a familiar set of engines… he'd heard them once before, as the vessel fled the sith bombardment.

Davik's stolen flagship… the Ebon Hawk… but she was too far away.

((()))

Bastila blindly found the Bond, and fled through it, into Kyle's mind, escaping the influence of the neural disruptor. She felt Kyle's panic, and confusion. She hadn't had time to be gentle, and had hurt him. She marshaled herself, and dove back through the bond, returning to her own crippled mind. The neural disruptor tried to rip away at her mental shields, but Bastila was ready this time. Layer after layer was lost to the disruptor, but Bastila had time to open her eyes, and press her finger to the cargo release. The slipstream tugging at her legs plucked her off, and for a moment, she hung suspended above the waves. Then the frozen moment ended, and she began to fall. Bastila managed to wrap herself in a bubble of Force, just before she hit the water… and the last of her barriers flickered away. Then the neural disruptor overwhelmed her.

((()))

Kyle's heart leapt into his throat, as Bastila fell. He saw Calo twist around on the swoop, and stare at the splash of white that marked where Bastila had fallen.

Kyle braked hastily, almost stalling the vehicle. He clipped a line to the side of the speeder, and dove from the vehicle, trailing cordage behind him. Even with armor, hitting the water hurt his neck muscles. Kyle scissored his feet, and pulled with his arms, swimming deeper, following the trail of air bubbles escaping Bastila's clothing. When submerged, even unconscious, most terrestrial species instinctively held their breath… until…

His spot lamp illuminated something dark, with lots of teeth. Kyle yelled, and struck at the firaxa, his knife leaving a bloody gash along its pointed snout. The predator thought better of the meal, and fled. Kyle swam deeper, catching sight of a hand, then he reached her, and activated the auto-winch on his belt, clutching the unconscious woman to his chest, kicking with his feet to speed the ascent. His helmet registered them at a depth of only fifty meters… and that number was steadily decreasing.

Then they exploded into the air. Bastila hung limply from his arms, and Kyle floundered into the speeder, the shell-shocked selkath watching him warily. Kyle drew his blaster, and aimed carefully, shooting the neural disruptor… but Bastila didn't open her eyes. Kyle saw the Ebon Hawk make an emergency landing nearby, and the dorsal maintenance access opened.

"Master!" Juhani shouted. Kyle piloted the speeder to the Hawk, and jumped aboard, carrying Bastila.

"Jolee," Kyle snapped, heading for the hatch…

When someone tackled him.

((()))

Juhani watched Calo Nord rise, drawing a knife from his belt, and stabbed at Kyle. The commando deflected the attack, to strike the hull of the ship.

"Juhani, get Bastila!" Kyle yelled, kicking Calo Nord's feet out from under him. The man didn't fight the momentum, tucking his knees to his chest as he somersaulted. When he landed, he caught Kyle's punch squarely on the nose.

_Fool me once,_ Kyle thought grimly, advancing on the now bloody man. Calo had never fought the same foe twice… which meant he need not worry about enemies anticipating his movements… until now. Kyle reached for his knife, and realized it was gone. Either in the water, or the speeder… and Calo's vibro-blade was also absent.

Kyle went for his blaster a moment before Calo, but both fired at the same time. Calo's shot slammed into Kyle's chest, and Kyle's shot missed his enemy's throat… hitting his weapon instead. Calo charged the winded commando, and pounced, almost establishing a neck hold to break Kyle's neck. Kyle twisted and thrust his knee out, but Calo retreated, slapping the strike off target, unbalancing Kyle. The commando rolled, and curled into a ball. Calo cocked his head for a second, before the grenade shoved in his coat pocket detonated, tossing Calo across the hull gracelessly.

"Interesting," Calo grunted, picking himself up, holding Kyle's lost blaster.

He opened fire, three shots hitting Kyle, one in the thigh, two in the chest, before the commando could lunge behind the open access hatch. Then the blaster exploded. Kyle gasped weakly, taking his hand off the stud on his vambrace. He was all out of tricks now.

Something clattered up onto the hull, "Query: Master, may I kill this meatbag?"

"Go ahead," Kyle grunted.

The deadly droid darted forward, ignoring the blaster rifle on its back. Initial observation showed that energy based weaponry was ineffective. Besides, close-quarters protocols were always more satisfying. This would no doubt prove to be… educational.

Kyle drew himself up, to watch the combat droid maneuver and strike, circling with the short man. They appeared to be evenly matched. During one of the exchanges, Calo came away with the rifle from HK's back. Without preamble, the man fired, as HK-47 charged.

Nothing happened, and in that half-moment, the droid finally managed to get his hands on Calo… and promptly extracted a necessary, and very vital section of trachea.

"Statement: oh meatbag… I am so very disappointed in you. As if I would not install safeguards upon my equipment…" HK sighed.

((()))

"_That's _the big secret?" Mission said, staring at the dead man, "He had a magic coat?"

Jolee stared at the twi'lek like she was crazy.

"A tarentatek isn't exactly a _common_ creature. The Jedi spent close to forty years hunting these bastards down… and they usually killed as often as were killed… for a non-force sensitive to kill one…"

"But, Canderous used a flamethrower on Calo," Mission protested.

Canderous ran his fingers across the fabric that covered the leather hide. "Hmm… probably fire retardant."

"Where's Kyle?" Mission asked.

"Where do you think?" Jolee grunted, jerking his head towards the med bay, from here, he could almost see the crouched commando, and the unconscious woman on the bio-bed.


	14. Chapter 14: Revelations

Bastila opened her eyes, seeing the familiar ceiling of the Ebon Hawk's medical bay. She looked over, and saw a man slumped against the wall, with new blaster scoring on his armor. She touched her throat, but the hateful device was gone. Obvious really. She looked over at the sleeping man, and smiled slightly. No matter what… she was more powerful than the untrained man… but there was something about him, something implacable, for all his frailty. She wasn't sure exactly _when _it had happened, but somehow, she found that she had come to depend on the commando… for the good of the mission, but also, for herself as well. She had originally been reluctant in her assignment with the new sergeant… but now… she was… glad… when he was near.

But he frightened her as well.

His emotions… they were volatile, pointed things, the product of a man bred and raised to fight, and kill the enemy before it could harm others. There was little room for debate, mediation, or introspection. The passion, the desire to _protect_, was an integral part of what he was… but did he not understand? Did he not fear the possible consequences of his actions? And yet… he made it seem so easy, to walk the balance, between the light, and the dark… or did it just seem that way?

Bastila realized that the man's eyes were open, and he was watching her, no doubt wakened by her focus on him. For a long second, Bastila _could not_ physically look away… and that was when she realized that she may have made a serious mistake.

"How do you feel?" Kyle asked.

"Weak," Bastila admitted… _and I smell like brine._

There was something he did not wish to tell her, Bastila sensed.

"What is it?" Bastila asked cautiously.

"Your mother died when Calo attacked us. _I'm sorry,"_ Kyle said softly.

The loss hurt more than she expected it would, which surprised her. She had loathed her mother for nearly her entire life, and only in the last few minutes of her mother's life, had Bastila felt otherwise… so why did it _hurt_ so much? Why was she crying? She'd barely known the woman, she was a Jedi, she had no such attachments—

Hard arms carefully wrapped around her, awkwardly, "It hurts to lose your parents. Even if you never really knew them," Kyle said softly into her hair, and at this range, she could almost read his thoughts, not just his emotion, and impressions. Her entire life, she had held others at arms length, as all the Jedi had. Everything had been… remote, and sterile. Like beautiful statues of marble and precious materials… but here, she saw a different way. In her world, there was no pain, no risk, no danger. All was as it should be. But Kyle… his world had no walls to contain it, to hold dangerous things at a safe distance. He had rules, he had armor, he had weapons… to fight or protect whatever he chose. He took chances. He was… _alive_.

She had no weapons, and the monsters were _within_ her walls. She did not know what to do. Not since the beginning of her training had she felt so compromised.

And confused.

Kyle had incredible power… and no training whatsoever as a Jedi. He had none of the discipline, the composure, the _guidance_ of a Jedi… and yet he was not evil. His emotions were strong, and passionate… but somehow he was not of the Dark Side… but neither was he of the Light.

Bastila had fought, so long, to control her emotions, to be serene, untouchable… and for all her power, she felt like a spindly tower. True, she could touch the heavens, but her balance was precarious, if she shifted too much in any direction, the tower would topple. Kyle felt like a stubborn mountain. He could not touch the clouds, but neither would he topple with the slightest breath of wind. Storms raged about his peak, but he did not fall, or even notice the wind.

Bastila felt a twinge of jealousy, and Kyle shifted. She knew he had likely sensed that emotion, and it further embarrassed her. Bad enough that another had seen her tears…

"What do you want from me? I will give it, if I can," Kyle promised quietly.

For a long time Bastila was silent, trying to organize her thoughts so that she could speak them, "In our time together I've seen your tendency towards embracing your darker emotions… and yet, at the same time, you direct, and contain those emotions with _other_ feelings. Compassion, pity, love… you _feel_ as I do not. You should have fallen to the Darkside. But you haven't," Bastila said, envious.

"But, what do you want from me?" Kyle asked.

"I don't know…" Bastila said, frustrated… but what she thought was: _Show me how_. Her world was a stark spectrum of black and white… but Kyle's world was filled with riotous color. Jedi subjugated their emotions. Sith were enslaved by them… and Kyle _lived with them._

"How do you keep from falling? How do you know which paths lead to the darkside, without any deliberation?" Bastila murmured. Kyle was silent for several seconds before answering.

"Because I'm not that arrogant. I don't know what the long lasting effects of my actions are, so I focus on what I _can_ see, and do what I can see is right," Kyle said thoughtfully.

"And that is enough for you?" Bastila asked, curious.

"So far, yes," Kyle shrugged.

Eventually, Kyle left, and Bastila busied herself with the Star Map holocron, to distract herself from the pain. The Overseer informed her that with the addition of the Manaan map, the archives had been expanded and repaired, by an additional twelve percent. There was only the faintest tinge of blue within the glowing golden cube… and to Bastila's worry, it had developed a faint, but noticeable aura of corruption.

She felt Kyle's thoughts loosen and slow, before he fell asleep in his bunk, as dreams began to flicker through his mind… his dreams were sad, twisted things, she felt, full in equal measure with happiness and aching loss. He was dreaming of his dead wife… the wife he thought was his. Even asleep, he endured the pain, in order to feel the good. Was that the secret, Bastila wondered. Could a person not have one, without the other? Bastila frowned, and set aside her musings. She had work to do.

((()))

_Korriban._ The very name struck Bastila with instinctive dread. It was a planet steeped in the darkside. It was believed to be the birth place of the Sith, and their malevolent influence… many secrets had been lost there, during countless wars… things best left forgotten. Kyle was still sleeping, and once again Bastila delved into his vulnerable subconscious, searching for answers.

The shadow was at her side, almost the moment she arrived.

_What are you looking for?_ The shadow asked, curious.

_The final Star Map, it's on Korriban_, Bastila replied.

_Ah…_ the shadow nodded, and slowly turned, as if running its finger along the spines of books in a library, searching for a particularly elusive volume. With a sudden stab of its finger, the shadow stopped, and the mist boiled into color and shapes.

They were surrounded by stone, and Bastila's skin crawled. The air was too close here… like clinging, cold river mud.

_A cave?_ Bastila wondered.

_No. A tomb, I believe_, the shadow said, pointing to a carved sarcophagus of stone. The star map deployed from the center of the chamber, briefly illuminating the sith script carved into the walls.

_Can you… back track? Try to find where this tomb is located?_ Bastila asked.

_Very well, I will—_ the shadow hesitated, as if disturbed. Bastila felt it too, something was wrong… or about to go wrong.

_Go_, the shadow said, shoving her from the dream, worried.

((()))

Bastila's eyes opened. The ship was quiet, since most of the crew were sleeping, but Bastila felt a looming disaster in the Force. Quickly, the Jedi Knight headed to the cockpit. Carth was lounging back in the pilot's seat, idly reading a holozine.

"Is anything amiss, captain?" Bastila asked.

Carth looked up, "No commander, ship status is normal. We still have eight hours before we reach Korriban."

The coursing ribbons of light outside the viewport suddenly collapsed back into real space with a shudder that almost knocked Bastila off her feet.

Carth tossed his holozine away, instantly reaching for the controls.

"What happened?" Bastila demanded, strapping into the co-pilot's station.

Carth spotted the trouble immediately on the sensors.

"Sith interdictor cruiser. They must have been waiting for us on the hyperspace route," Carth snapped, throwing the Ebon Hawk into a starboard spin, trying to get out from under the capital ship, where its tractor beam couldn't lock on. He almost made it, just three more seconds.

The ship shuddered and the engines began to whine, fighting the tractor beam.

Carth threw all discretionary power into the engines, but they didn't have the power to break free…

He killed power to the engines, "We're caught in their tractor beam," he sighed.

"Do you recognize the ship?" Bastila asked.

"It's the Leviathan…" Carth said quietly, leaving volumes unsaid.

"How long before they board us?" Bastila asked.

"We have three minutes, five at the most," Carth said grimly.

"All hands, report to the main hold!" Bastila shouted into the intercom. The Star Map Holocron was safe in one of the smuggling compartments…

The rest of the crew quickly assembled.

((()))

"Talk of an escape is somewhat premature, don't you think?" Bastila argued, as she and Carth arrived.

"I'll admit it won't be easy. Saul's no fool and he won't underestimate us either," Carth said grimly.

"Admiral Karath doesn't know how many of us there are on board," Bastila said.

"Options?" Carth asked the group bluntly.

Canderous cocked his head thoughtfully, staring at the Twi'lek teen… "You're pretty small, kid."

The girl bristled angrily, and almost broke into a tirade.

Then she heard the suggested plan. She liked it. Carth didn't… but Bastila overruled them, with a few added embellishments.

((()))

The Sith Sergeant moved his squad into position. To his surprise, the ramp of the captured freighter lowered of its own accord, before they had to breach it.

The sergeant didn't like it, but he barked at his team, and they quickly boarded the vessel. Three more squads were right on their heels. It only took a few minutes to round up the motley crew. Four humans, a wookiee, and two droids. The crew looked to have been roused from their sleep, and only a few carried weapons… although a wookiee was never _unarmed_.

((()))

The Sith detail commander watched as his men dragged the crew out of the scruffy freighter, and off to the detention block.

One of the sergeants broke off from the group, and saluted.

"Report," the commander said.

"The crew has been taken prisoner as you ordered, commander!"

"Excellent. Have you searched the ship thoroughly? Admiral Karath warned me to be on alert for any kind of treachery," the commander asked.

"Yes sir."

The Sith detail commander saluted sharply as Admiral Karath approached, "The crew have been taken prisoner as you ordered, admiral!"

"Show me," Karath said quietly.

((()))

Bastila didn't know why the Sith Admiral had looked so shaken to see Carth. It didn't really matter though, as she sat in the force cage. The room was small. It held three force cages, and a control panel to operate them. As far as interrogation rooms went, it lacked many of the tools Bastila associated with Sith… questioning.

"So, captain… how do you know the admiral?" Bastila asked.

"Admiral Karath taught me everything I know about being a soldier. He was a legend in the Republic fleet, and a hero to me. Until he betrayed us. My family was destroyed that day in the Sith bombardment," Carth snarled, his hands clenching impotently at his sides.

"Don't do anything you'll regret, Carth," Bastila urged.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid. But if I get a chance to kill Saul during our escape, stay out of my way," he stared pointedly at Bastila, until the younger woman looked away.

That was when the door to the chamber whisked open, and presumably admiral Karath entered.

"Carth, it has been far too long since we last spoke. I see the years have not been kind in your case. I barely recognized you," the admiral said, sounding genuinely pleased to see him… as if they were friends.

"I see your face every night, Saul… and I will kill you for what you did to my world," Carth said coldly.

"Did you learn nothing in your time under me? As a soldier you should understand that casualties were unavoidable. It was merely an act of war," Karath sighed.

"It was a cowardly act of betrayal! Your fleet bombed a civilian target into oblivion without warning or provocation. And the blood of those innocent people is on your hands!" Carth roared, losing his frosty shell, surging to his feet.

"In war even the innocent must die. The Sith would not accept me until I proved I had truly turned my back on the Republic by bombing the planet," Karath said, looking pained.

"My family died in that attack, Saul," Carth snarled.

Karath nodded slowly, "Morgana and your son, Dustil… I _am_ sorry that their deaths were necessary," the admiral apologized, and to Bastila's surprise, it was sincere regret. This man had demons of his own.

"I swear I _will_ kill you," Carth promised.

Apparently, Karath's sympathy had limits, "You used to be a man of _action_, not of empty words. Cling to your lust for revenge if you must, but spare me your tired threats. I've heard them all before. You are an insignificant part of these events, anyway."

Karath turned his eyes on Bastila, pointedly turning his back on Carth.

"Lord Malak is far more interested in your Jedi companion. He has great plans for her…"

"I will never serve Malak or the dark side! The Sith will be destroyed, Admiral Karath... _as will you_ if you don't turn away from this path," Bastila retorted.

"Your words are brave, Bastila, but the lure of the dark side is hard to resist - or so I've been told. I wonder if your companion is as devoted to the light as you are?" Karath said, giving Carth a knowing smile. There had been many… questionable… acts performed during the Mandalorian wars.

Karath strolled to the nearby console, "The Dark Lord will no doubt torture you for information and for his own twisted pleasure. Eventually you will tell him everything. The Sith can be very persuasive. However, Lord Malak is in another sector. It may be some time before he arrives, so I suppose I will have to fill in for him until then," the man said, bored. He flipped a lever, and Carth's cage filled with lightning.

Carth knew he'd been hurt worse before, but he couldn't think as every single pain receptor was triggered by the torture field, almost causing him to pass out on the spot.

Dimly, he could hear someone screaming. After an eternity, he realized it was him.

"Don't waste your breath, Saul! He won't answer any of your questions!" Bastila shouted.

"I'm sure he won't," Karath said calmly, watching the man writhe in the torture field. He flipped the switch, and Carth slumped, panting raggedly.

"Then what do you hope to achieve?" Bastila demanded.

"_I am_ the interrogator, not the other way around. You will answer questions, not ask them," Karath sneered at Bastila, before returning his attention to Carth, "It is time to put your loyalty to the test. I doubt torturing you will gain me your true cooperation. Your will is too strong to be broken that way."

Karath bared his teeth, "However, even the strongest of _heroes_ has trouble watching those they care about suffering."

Carth's eyes widened.

"The interrogation will begin now. Each time you refuse to answer or give me a false answer, Bastila will suffer," the admiral explained politely.

"G-go ahead, don't like… her anyway," Carth wheezed.

"You expect me to fall for such a transparent ploy? I tire of these games - now I want answers! On what planet is the Jedi Academy?"

"Go to hell."

Karath raised a pencil thin eyebrow in disbelief, "Very well. This is the price of your resistance," he activated Bastila's torture field. She panted, but did not scream, her eyes squeezed shut, using several Force techniques to shield her perception of pain.

Karath kept the field active for twenty seconds, then shut it off, "This first question was a test. Obviously Malak knew the Academy was on Dantooine, and it has since been destroyed by our fleet. Nothing remains but a smoking ruin and the charred remains of her former Masters!"

Bastila's eyes flew open, "No, you're lying! It isn't true!" she said desperately.

Karath shrugged, "It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not. The fact remains that the Jedi on Dantooine have been eradicated, along with any hope of someone coming to rescue you."

"Never liked them much anyway," Carth said.

"A brave front, but your feigned indifference does not fool me. Now... tell me your mission. How were the Jedi planning on using Bastila to stop Lord Malak and our Sith armada?" Karath demanded, his hand hovering over the switch.

"We have been sent to assassinate Lord Malak," Carth sighed, bowing his head.

"Do you take me for a fool? The Jedi are not assassins - they would never devise such a plan," Karath chided. He fiddled with something on the panel before flipping the switch, and Carth's eyes shot open, and he screamed, a terrible, throat scraping sound… And Bastila could do nothing. Carth did not have Bastila's resistance.

"Listen, can you not hear his suffering? You can spare him further pain by simply answering my questions," Karath hissed, his eyes glittering as he looked at Bastila. Finally he stopped, and Carth slumped to the ground.

"Now, I will ask again - on what mission did the Jedi Council send you?"

Bastila raised her chin, but said nothing.

"I see another lesson is in order," Karath sighed.

"You are a sick and evil man, Saul Karath," Bastila said, utter contempt dripping from every syllable.

Karath fiddled with the panel again, and activated Carth's torture field, idly drinking in the convulsions and writhing of the trapped man. After three minutes, the man slumped, unconscious.

"I am surprised he did not pass out sooner. Rarely have I seen someone withstand such punishment and remain conscious," Karath observed. He glanced at Bastila, "I see I am wasting my time here. When Malak arrives you will learn my interrogation techniques are considered merciful among the Sith. I will leave you here in your cell with a small taste of the horrors you will suffer when Lord Malak arrives." Karath activated Bastila's torture field as well before he left the room, and the woman hissed.

((()))

Bastila sat cross legged in her center. The plain of white shook with the occasional earth quake, and the pillars had small cracks creeping across them. The technique was difficult to maintain for any length of time, and Bastila was no master.

She would lose her hold in five minutes, or ten… then she too would feel the agony.

"Am I interrupting?"

Bastila opened her eyes, and saw a familiar shadow standing before her.

"How… how are you here?" Bastila stammered.

"I'm not _really_ here…" Revan's shade admitted.

"You can't be here," Bastila said.

The shadow sat down in front of her, mirroring her posture, "I can help," he offered, holding out his hands.

"Why?" Bastila asked, suspicious.

"Because we need to have a talk… and that's easier when you aren't unconscious," the shadow said easily.

Hesitantly, Bastila reached out, and joined hands with her dead foe.

Instantly, the pressure around her mind receded somewhat.

"What do you want?"

((()))

Juhani clung to the ceiling of the mainhold, breathing softly and slowly, as she drifted in her trance, which continued to shield her from instruments and sight alike. She'd also reigned in her senses, compacting them into a tiny ball, hiding from any Force users in the area. She had never held her veil for this long… but as time passed, and her limbs began to tire, she found that her focus grew _sharper_. Fewer and fewer men in silver armor prowled the space below her, waving scanners and weapons.

Finally, the men departed, and Juhani heard the clank of the boarding ramp closing.

Silence descended on the dark ship. Eventually, she heard tentative scratching and chirps, as the Gizka emerged from their hiding places. Only then did she release her hold. Juhani twisted in midair, demonstrating her felenoid ancestry, as she landed, without a sound. It was strange, to carry two lightsabers upon her belt.

Juhani crept through the familiar passage to the female dormitory, and found the concealed dial, that appeared to be a loose bolt in the wall. She twisted the bolt in the correct ratio, and heard a catch in the floor click quietly. Then something burst out of the smuggling compartment.

Mission groaned in agony as she hastily stretched and limped on numb feet around the dormitory, Calo's coat _almost_ fit her… although it still stank of blood and human sweat. The compartment wasn't very large, only one meter by one meter… and half a meter deep.

"I can't feel my right foot," Mission whimpered, hopping awkwardly, trying to pull off her thigh-high boot. Juhani ignored the teen, and instead inspected the large weapon that Canderous had insisted on including with Mission. Juhani activated the micro-repulsor-lift, and slung the bulky weapon across her back. It was awkward, but she knew it was necessary… as was the bandoleer of powercells.

Then she walked to the hidden compartment in the floor of the men's dormitory, and found the hidden release. Within lay a dead man, or so it felt. Juhani crouched next to the mandalorian, and pushed the hypo into Canderous's carotid artery, injecting the contents. Within minutes, the man began to stir, as the sedatives were neutralized.

"_Ossik…_ I hate doing that," Canderous complained, reaching for his helmet.

Juhani slipped the bandoleer to the deck, as well as the mercenary's beloved weapon. If there had been a choice, Canderous would have kept it with him, but there wasn't room for him _and_ the weapon.

Captain Onasi had warned her that the typical complement of this vessel numbered just under 10,000… even if three quarters of that number were droids… but she still found it strange, to wear the bald-one's tunic. It confused her scent, and shielded her from the Force… or at least, perception by the Force.

"Did they leave Davik's droid?" Canderous asked, inspecting his weapon.

"No. The combat droid is absent as well," Juhani reported. Canderous nodded. They had hoped the droids might be left in the cargo bay, but hadn't counted on it. T3-M4 would have been handy… but Mission trusted that the little droid would still be able to carry out its objectives.

((()))

Kyle wondered where Bastila had been taken. He could feel Bastila's pain through the bond, and winced, unable, and unwilling to block it out. He felt helpless. She had dulled his pain through the bond before, but he didn't know how to return the favor… and he had lied… when Bastila asked how he kept from falling.

Deep down, his powers frightened him, because they were a threat to who he was. All of his life, until the accident that had nearly killed him… he had been blissfully unaware of his potential. He had been allowed to be himself, to make his own choices. The Jedi… the Jedi frightened him. They took children from their parents, and molded them into miniature copies of themselves. Rigid, unyielding… the only obvious alternative was to become a monster… but at least he would be free. Kyle didn't care about power, not if the cost was _that_ high.

Kyle glanced at his cell mate. The rodian was wearing a stained flightsuit, which had several rips and tears in the fabric.

"Who are you?" Kyle asked.

"Me just... uh... me just trader in "rare" goods," the rodian said. Kyle stared. The rodian had spoken in Basic. Bad, _garbled_ Basic… but still Basic.

"What do you mean by_ rare_ goods?" Kyle asked slowly.

"Me bring things to people in need. People who need things they can't get normally," the rodian said evasively.

"Ah… you're a smuggler," Kyle realized.

"Such un-nice language! Me helps people, and people helps me!" the rodian said sullenly.

"Apparently Sith aren't people then," Kyle observed, glancing out into the corridor.

"Evil Sith unjustly capture me and my ship! They think we spies. They torture all the crew, trying to get information. But we not have any information to give… but Sith not care. They "interrogate" captain until his mind snap. Then they grab first mate. Then navigator... they all crazy now. Minds gone. So sad, but they nothing but animals now," the rodian sighed.

"Me lowest rank on ship, but now me only one left. Soon Sith come to interrogate me, too. But me not know anything!" the rodian moaned, a little frightened.

_Huh… a cowardly rodian. That's new_," Kyle thought. Maybe they killed the non-violent ones at birth…

((()))

"I'm in," Mission whispered, crouched behind a refueling pump, her datapad spliced into an information terminal.

"Find the others," Canderous told her. Mission rolled her eyes, she was already _doing_ that. Then she squinted, and after a yelp, yanked the splicer cable out of the terminal.

"What happened?" Juhani asked, while Mission hyperventilated.

"These guys are good… they almost located my intrusion," Mission whispered.

_Which would have been very bad_, Juhani surmised. Computers were a mystery to her.

"Guess where back to the old fashioned way," Canderous grunted, testing the edge of his knife thoughtfully.

((()))

T3-M4's sensors detected no organics in the immediate area, and powered up, easily rerouting control around the restraining bolt. They had downloaded and wiped his memory, or rather, the surface memory. They hadn't found his actual memory core. The droid cautiously rotated his head, and began his search. The storage room was secured, but T3-M4 wasn't worried unduly. Security was relatively light here… and the homing beacon had activated.

((()))

HK-47's passive sensors detected no meatbags in the immediate area, and powered up, easily rerouting control around the restraining bolt. They had attempted to download and wipe his memory. Unfortunately for the meatbags, such a task was impossible, due to his superior design. HK-47's photoreceptors activated with a sullen orange glow, and he spotted a secured door ahead of him. The droid stepped forward.

Nothing happened. HK looked down, in mounting horror. The plating over his combat chassis had been removed, and _there_, sitting on the workbench nearby… his primary power cell. They had been _disassembling him_… for _parts._

The barbarians, did they not realize the technological marvel they had found? To arbitrarily reduce him to such… HK-47 relegated his moral outrage to a tertiary memory buffer. Retribution could be administered later. Instead, the assassin droid retasked all available processes to discovering a way to overcome his current, ignoble, predicament. His auxiliary power source was able to provide energy for processing functions, sensors, vocabulator, and minor servomotors, but not enough to power his primary servomotors.

A quandary… perhaps he could talk a passing meatbag into reassembling him… although HK calculated the probability of such an outcome to be less than 17%. Although the chances of one of the masters locating him via his active homing beacon hovered around 48%. HK wondered if his circuits would expire from humiliation, should one of the masters locate him in such deplorable condition.

((()))

Misson _had_ managed to download a general schematic of the interdictor, before her near discovery. She referenced it, and correlated it to the homing beacon HK-47 was emitting. The location was near the center of the ship, in the most protected section. Getting there from the flight deck involved… severe unpleasantness.

Juhani continued to ignore the stench from the waste she was wading through. Her boots only reached her calves, and the sludge was easily knee height. Mission had boots that rose to mid thigh, and as such, did not have to concern herself with what was _squelching _in her boots, like Juhani… although she _was_ dragging the hem of the coat in the muck. Canderous didn't comment, but he was in sealed armor with olfactory filters… and this would likely wash off of his flightsuit. Mission glanced at the datapad in her hand. They were close to the combat droid.

((()))

Jolee sat on the rather uncomfortable bench/bed, and inspected his fingernails. He'd split one of them, getting dragged into this cold box. Zaalbar continued to growl and mutter under his breath, pacing in front of the force field. Arboreal species… not so good with confined spaces. Then Jolee felt a tremor from the Force.

_Ah… about time_, the old Jedi thought grumpily. Jolee poked Zaalbar in the ribs, until the wookiee went to stand at the back of the cell. Jolee glanced at the guard outside the field.

"Guard, I need to speak with you," Jolee said calmly. The soldier ignored him.

_Interesting… resistant to persuasion_… Jolee thought.

This might take longer than he'd anticipated.

((()))

"Annoyed query: how much longer, master?"

Mission scowled, adjusting her grip on the tools within the droid's chest cavity, "I've almost got it…"

"Observation: that was your answer four minutes ago."

"Well, shut up, so I can concentrate!" Mission snapped.

"Request: I only ask that you be oh so very careful, master. I am too valuable and well-crafted to perish at the hands of ineptitude," HK-47 repeated nervously, watching the young meatbag continue to struggle with reinserting his primary power supply.

"Are you implying I'm inept?" Mission asked, dangerously.

"Negatory: Err... no, master. You are not a droid, however, and therefore your skills _are _limited by the physical capabilities of your meatbag extremities. Or some such—"

Mission's sweaty hands slipped, in her moment of distraction.

"...aahhhh! What are you doing?! Remove the arc wrench, remove the arc wrench! _Medic!"_ HK-47 screeched.

_Oops_.

Juhani sighed, and tried to wait patiently within the storage room. They had not anticipated the removal of the droid's power core by the Sith. Thankfully, the room was soundproofed. She glanced at the mandalorian, who shrugged. The door suddenly chimed, and whisked open. Canderous almost opened fire.

T3-M4 beeped cheekily at the armored mandalorian, and rolled towards Mission and the prostrate assassin droid.

"Relived request: master, please allow the trash compacter to finish repairs upon my systems."

Mission grumpily stepped aside, as the utility droid began to rapidly replace and reinstall the many scattered components around HK-47.

((()))

Jolee patted the guard on the solder, "You just take a nap, okay? You look tired."

"I should take a nap. I look tired," the guard agreed reluctantly, climbing onto the _un_comfort bench, and promptly fell asleep.

Jolee glanced at Zaalbar, "Shall we go?"

The wookiee bared his fangs, but didn't make any noise, lest he alert the enemy.

((()))

"Don't try to move too quickly," Bastila said. Carth decided opening an eye was adventurous enough.

"Bastard," Carth hissed, trying not to move his lips too much.

"The dark side has perverted him, Carth. Once you start down the tainted path it leads you ever further into the depths of evil. I fear he is forever lost," Bastila sighed.

"What about all that talk, about redemption," Carth grunted, experimentally rolling onto his side, and off his face. It hurt… but it hurt less than doing nothing.

"I suppose you are correct. Sometimes it is easy to lose sight of that hope in the face of such unbridled cruelty," Bastila said uncomfortably.

"So… he said Malak was on his way," Carth said grimly.

"I felt a disturbance in the Force, roughly half an hour ago. I presume it was then that Saul sent his message," Bastila said.

"I, uh... I have to confess something. There was a... there was a moment - just a moment - when part of me was hoping that you would tell him what he wanted to know. Just to make it stop," Carth admitted, unable to look Bastila in the eye.

"It is fortunate you were able to resist the Admiral's questioning. The fate of the galaxy could be changed by revealing the slightest piece of vital information about our mission," Bastila told him.

Carth smiled wryly. The commander was learning. Encourage the troops…

((()))

"If only have access to terminal…" the rodian sighed wistfully.

"You're a slicer?" Kyle asked, reassessing his evaluation of the rodian's usefulness.

"Err… not exactly…" the rodian hedged.

"My, my… you look quite cozy," a familiar voice chuckled. Kyle turned, and saw Jolee.

"About time you showed up," Kyle said.

"You not Sith! Help me out of this cell, and me help you!" the rodian said desperately, elbowing past Kyle.

"Excitable little fellow, isn't he," Jolee said, raising an eyebrow.

"Me have something special. Something you can use on ship!" the rodian begged.

Jolee cocked his head.

"What do you mean…"

"Something verrry powerful... an ICE breaker. It give access to computers on ship. Use it to override Sith security!"

"That doesn't sound like something the Sith would just overlook…" Kyle said suspiciously.

"Sith, um, Sith not very thorough in search…" the rodian said, embarrassed.

"Okay. That's disgusting," Jolee decided calmly.

"Think what you will! But me have way into computers, and computers have way into hangar. Take me with you?" the rodian prodded.

"I'm certainly not going to touch the thing," Jolee said, deactivating the barrier.

"Now, which way to Bastila?" he looked pointedly at Kyle, and the commando sighed, reluctantly touch the place of oddness, and focusing on it.

_THERE._

"I've got it… I think," Kyle said, breaking into a trot down the corridor. He saw several other holding cells, with additional prisoners. Most of them trembled and rocked in corners, their eyes wide, and empty. Clearly, they had been guests of Malak for some time.

((()))

T3-M4 jacked into the ship, and uploaded his cyber warfare package, now that HK-47 was once more operational, infiltrating the ship systems, although the process was slow, due to the sophistication of the programming and countermeasures. Mission and Juhani had found a utility sonic scrubber, intended to clean grime off floors, and were attempting to use it to remove the filth that had caked on their clothing with limited success.

T3-M4 noted an update. A shuttle would be arriving in less than ten minutes. The droid inspected the IFF signature, and checked it against the ship's directory… and received a passenger manifest.

T3-M4 started to moan, and Canderous looked at the droid, "What's wrong?"

"Translation: Darth Malak's shuttle will be onboard in ten minutes," HK-47 said, with a shrug.

"Have you located the others?" Ordo asked the utility droid.

"Translation: yes, but direct access is restricted."

"Can you breach the firewall?" Canderous asked.

"Translation: not in the time remaining," HK-47 said.

"Show me where they are…" Juhani said.

((()))

"Someone is coming," Bastila said, warning Carth as she opened her eyes. Boots clanged on the deck, and a pair of Sith troopers in red armor entered the interrogation room. They deactivated Carth's force cage, and slapped a pair of stun cuffs onto the weakened man, then dragged the captain out of the room. _Now what was going on?_

((()))

Kyle just about had a heart attack, when Juhani burst out of the ventilation duct overhead, landing in front of him.

"Juhani!" Kyle hissed.

"Kyle, there's no time. The dark lord will be here in five minutes, and T3 can't breach the firewalls in time," Juhani panted.

Kyle looked at the rodian, "Will the ICE-breaker work on anything?"

"Err… yes, but one time only. It not last long. Five minutes… maybe six?" the rodian said.

"Juhani, take this to T3, he'll know what to do with it," Kyle said, taking the tubular probe from the rodian. Juhani plucked Jolee's lightsaber from her belt, and tossed it to the old man, before she leapt straight up, and back into the vent.

"My feet are itchin for a good run…" Jolee prompted.

"I agree," Kyle said, breaking into a sprint, although Jolee ghosted along next to him.

((()))

The troopers dragged him onto a turbolift, and through several corridors, before they stepped out into a room Carth could recognize by sound alone. It was filled with the soft beeps of computer updates, quiet whispers of crew operators, and the brush of fabric as officers rose and sat at different positions in the crew pits.

The bridge.

Carth raised his aching head, and saw, at the head of the bridge, a familiar silhouette, of a man standing at parade rest, gazing out at the stars. The guards carried him down the command walk, which divided the crew pits, until he was only two meters away from the man that had given him so much… before he'd taken everything from Carth. The fact that he was on his knees, held up by his forearms mattered little. He would get a chance. Soon.

"Carth… I know you do not understand… but the things I have done… they were necessary. This war is bigger than you think," Admiral Karath said quietly.

"Murder is still murder," Carth said, equally quiet.

"I know I taught you better than that," Saul said sharply, turning his piercing eyes on his protégé.

"The only thing you taught me was betrayal and death, Saul," Carth said coldly, murder in his eyes.

"Don't be a fool. I am giving you a chance to _live._ Darth Malak himself is on his way, he will be arriving any moment. He doesn't care about _you_. He has eyes only for Bastila. Join me. What happened to your family was_ beyond_ regrettable. Please, don't throw your life away for _nothing_."

"I'll take my chances," Carth said.

"Malak will destroy you without a second thought, unless I intercede for you!" Saul snapped.

"Tell me, _sir_. Did you intercede for Telos? For Morgana? For _Dustil_, your _godson?_" Carth asked, his voice remaining cold, neutral… and all the more terrible for it.

"I did everything I could, Carth. It wasn't enough… but I'm valuable now. Malak will grant me this favor, since it will cost him nothing," Saul said persuasively.

((()))

Juhani dropped out of the vent, and tossed the device to T3-M4, who studied it for a moment, before mating it to a second terminal interface.

"What was that?" Canderous asked.

"Answer: a highly illegal tool of cyber warfare, an _ICE_-Breaker. I suspect we have control of the ship now," HK-47 said.

Canderous digested this for a brief moment.

"The Sith fighters are automated, aren't they?" Canderous asked.

"Answer: yes, as are some of the point defense weapons," HK confirmed.

"T3, can you target the incoming shuttle? Flag it as hostile, launch fighters?" Canderous demanded.

"Translation: _yes_," HK said smugly.

((()))

Carth felt the deck shudder a little, as some of the quad laser emplacements opened fire. He turned his head, but couldn't see the target.

"Admiral! We have opened fire on Lord Malak's shuttle!" one of the operators reported, shocked.

"Hanger reports multiple fighter launches," another operator said, looking up from her console.

Saul looked startled for a moment, but quickly regained his composure, "Disable our weapon systems, and lock the fighter launch doors,"

"We're locked out, sir!" an operator reported.

"Then get some men down there, and physically cut the relays to the guns!" Admiral Karath snapped.

Carth smiled.

((()))

Kyle watched from the cracked doorway, as another guard passed him in a hurry… but this time, the man was alone. Kyle lunged, and grabbed the stun baton from the startled guard's belt. Before the man could even turn, Kyle stabbed the baton into the guard's armpit, where the plates didn't cover, and the insulation was thinnest. With a jerk, the man started to fall, until Kyle caught him, and eased him silently to the deck, dragging him into the supply room.

Kyle hastily pulled on the unconscious guard's armor. It was a little tight across the shoulders, since he was several centimeters taller than the sith veteran. Unfortunately, he'd only been armed with a shock baton. Still, _any_ armor was better than no armor, in Kyle's opinion. He tucked the baton into the holster on his equipment belt, and started down the corridor, while the rest of the rescue team remained out of sight, trailing behind him.

((()))

Bastila looked up, sensing Kyle's proximity. There was a brief flare of violence from his psyche, and the doors to the interrogation room opened, a pair of motionless guards in red armor lay on the deck. A man in silver sith armor entered, still holding a stun baton.

"Commander," Kyle said, nodding to her.

"Sergeant," Bastila smiled weakly.

"I think we can both agree that this is a rescue," Kyle said, as he deactivated her force cage.

"I was just about to escape, if you must know," Bastila said wryly.

"Where is Carth?" Kyle asked.

"I'm not sure, guards came and took him six minutes ago," Bastila said.

Kyle stopped, hand to the side of his helmet, listening.

"He's on the bridge…" Kyle hissed in frustration.

Jolee stepped into the room.

"So, what're your orders, commander?" the wizened man said.

As a Jedi, the captain's loss would be a necessary sacrifice, for the good of the Republic… but Bastila was tired of sacrificing her friends for this nebulous _greater good_. She looked at Kyle, and knew what he would do…

And it felt _right_.

"We're not leaving anyone behind," Bastila decided.

"The bridge has higher level security. We'll need disguises to even get close," Kyle said, turning to contemplate the two elite troopers in the corridor.

"Only two uniforms," Kyle pointed out.

Bastila nodded, "I will go. The rest of you, return to the ship."

"You heard the woman, get going," Kyle said, as he bent over one of the unconscious bodies, peeling silver plates off his borrowed body suit, swapping them for the much thicker red plates.

"I'm going, _alone_," Bastila said firmly.

"I seem to have lost my tags, between here and the ship. Guess I'm retired again," Kyle said, grinning recklessly, as he swapped helmets.

"Kyle…" Bastila said warningly.

"I'm coming, Shan, so shut your mouth, and suit up… _sir_." Kyle said firmly.

Bastila shook her head. She knew to pick her battles now… and this wasn't one she'd win.

((()))

T3-M4 beeped forlornly.

"Translation: The crew has physically disabled the Leviathan's weapon systems, as well as secured the fighter launch doors with mag locks… and over half of the launched fighters have been destroyed," HK reported grimly.

"So we can't do anything more from here?" Canderous demanded.

"Affirmation: All functions have been disabled from remote access, and locked in manual mode," HK said.

"Then let's get moving, back to the ship," Canderous said, powering up ord'ika. The time for skulking around and hiding was over, finally. Now, they could get to the _killing._

((()))

Two Sith captains marched down the corridor, ignoring the enlisted men that scrambled around them. Their crimson armor opened a path without any words being needed. Elites had a reputation for short tempers, and their solution to _any_ obstacle tended to involve lethal force.

Bastila glanced unobtrusively at Kyle, as they entered the bridge. She felt a flicker of familiarity from him, but nothing else. The last time they had stood upon a bridge like this, they had been enemies. She felt confusion from Kyle. Some of what she'd been thinking had bled through the bond, but apparently, not enough to understand. Bastila focused her attention on the primary threat in the room… there were two Dark Jedi Knights prowling the crew pits. The admiral, and Carth were at the front of the bridge.

_Wait here, _Bastila thought, and Kyle stopped, beside the door, as if he were guarding the entryway. Bastila continued on, circling the peripheral of the room, keeping her powers locked down into a small ball, hiding her presence as she approached the Dark Jedi on the left, who was busy glowering at a nervous officer.

"Very resourceful. I assume you had some part in this," Admiral Karath said, glancing at Carth. Two elites held the kneeling man by his arms… and he also wore a pair of stun cuffs, Kyle noted, from the corner of his eye, as he watched Bastila.

When only five meters separated them, the Dark Jedi looked up… but his attention was on Kyle. Bastila lunged forward, telekinesis yanking the man's lightsaber into her hand, and she cut him down as she landed beside him. There was a frozen moment of silence. Then the crewmen began to scramble away, the second Dark Jedi was charging her, there was lightning… and lightsaber squealed against lightsaber.

Kyle charged down the walkway, his shots missing Bastila by only the briefest of margins. The two elites holding Carth spun, and also opened fire on Bastila… but they paid no attention to their charging comrade…

"Flank left!" Kyle shouted. One of the Elite troopers leapt to obey. As he passed in front of Kyle, the commando kicked, hurling the poor man at the Dark Jedi… who angrily cut the man down for colliding with him. The second elite spun to shoot at Kyle, but Carth hooked his restrained arms around the man's neck and hauled back, toppling them both into the crew pit. Kyle jumped into the pit, jammed his blaster rifle under the man's arm as he landed, and fired at point blank range, killing the veteran.

Bastila hurled her foe across the bridge, crushing several consoles with the hapless man, before releasing him, his neck clearly broken.

The crew operators were unarmed, and they knew it, fleeing the bridge. Bastila removed Carth's restraints with a flick of her fingers, and tossed her blaster rifle to the captain, apparently content with her new lightsaber.

Admiral Saul Karath folded his arms behind him, once more assuming parade rest, as he watched the three approach him.

"Throw down your weapons now, and I will ask my Master to be merciful," the proud man said.

"I've seen enough of Sith mercy," Carth growled.

"You always did like to do things the hard way," Admiral Karath sighed, shaking his head.

"Carth, revenge is not the Jedi way," Bastila said forcefully.

"No… but it is _our_ way," Kyle said softly, nodding to Carth.

Saul's right hand whipped out from behind his back, and the small hold-out blaster that had been holstered at the small of his back, (underneath his uniform blouse) fired.

Carth jerked, then fired his rifle, hitting the unarmored admiral just above the heart, throwing him against the transparasteel window behind him. Kyle stared at the afterimages on his vision. Bastila had blocked the shot a few centimeters from his face plate. Kyle wasn't sure where it had deflected to.

When Kyle's vision cleared, he saw that the admiral was slumped gracelessly against the deck.

_"Carth..."_ Saul smiled weakly, unable to move.

"It's time to finish this," Carth said coldly, advancing to stand over the dying man, carefully aiming the blaster rifle.

"Wait," Bastila said, staring at the man. Saul desperately needed to say something.

_"Carth..."_ Saul wheezed, his eyes locked fiercely on those of his protégé, _"... must tell you..." _

Carth frowned, as the man gasped, and choked, trying to speak, fingers curling around Carth's ankle with desperate strength.

The captain knelt, and placed his ear near Saul's moving lips.

Bastila felt profound shock resonate from the captain, drawing back sharply … and Saul smiled, a true smile, giving Bastila a glimpse of the man he used to be, as his fingers loosened, and his eyes grew distant.

"You… you bastard," Carth said, his voice trembling.

"All this time… and you never told me," Carth said, openly weeping, staring at the dead admiral.

"Carth, we have to go!" Bastila said.

"Yes… yes commander," Carth said, taking a deep breath. _Dustil_…

"We've reached the ship, encountering heavy resistance," Canderous reported over Kyle's new comlink.

"Understood," Bastila said, "We're on our way back."

A sith trooper fired from the door to the bridge, nearly killing the distracted commando, if Bastila hadn't force shoved the man aside… though the blast still carved through Kyle's face plate, leaving a hot, smoking gouge behind.

"Damn it," Kyle snarled, yanking the sparking helmet off his face, and tossing it aside. It was hard to reinforce a face plate… Then they were running for the turbolift.

Bastila stumbled to a halt, Kyle almost crashed into her. A terrible coldness had settled across the group. From the turbolift, a tall man emerged, almost casually approaching. The lower half of his jaw had been replaced by a durasteel prosthetic, black robes billowing from segmented armor.

"Darth _Malak_…" Bastila said grimly. There was a hint of fear in her voice.

Carth opened fire. The Sith Lord ignited his weapon, batting the bolts aside, and casually crushed Carth's rifle with telekinesis. He twitched his hand, slamming the valiant captain into the bulkhead with enough force to break the man's arm in several places. Carth grimaced, on the edge of passing out… and no longer in the fight.

"I hope you weren't thinking of leaving so soon, Bastila," the tall man gloated. Kyle sidestepped from behind the woman, trying to get an angle on the Sith Lord, to harass him for Bastila's attack. Malak's dead, yellow eyes peered at Kyle… and for a man with only half a face, Kyle had no trouble seeing the Dark Lord's shock.

"You… you are _dead_," Malak said, raising his lightsaber defensively.

"Clearly not _too_ dead," Kyle said, his mouth on autopilot, as he prepared his volley.

Malak glanced between him and Bastila, "You allied yourself with the Jedi? For revenge?"

"Sure," Kyle said, started to get a little confused. He felt something against his mind. It had none of the soft assurance he associated with Bastila, more like a poke in the eye by a finger made from sand paper.

Malak stepped back, incredulous, he looked at Bastila, "What have you done. What _is this?_"

Kyle felt Malak's probe touch him again, and Bastila swatted him away from Kyle's mind, through their bond, harnessing some of Kyle's power to do so.

Malak continued to stare for several seconds, then he began to laugh.

Darth Malak squinted at Kyle, "You don't _know… _do you?" he said incredulously.

It was quite disturbing.

"All this time, surely some of what you once were must have surfaced by now. Even the combined power of the Jedi Council couldn't keep your true identity buried forever, could it?" Malak pondered.

"Apparently I look like someone. Who, exactly?" Kyle asked, stalling for time.

"They cannot hide what you once were… _Revan_…" Malak gloated.

"You're an idiot," Kyle said flatly, "I couldn't be Darth Revan, unless I was in two places at once."

"You do not yet remember, Revan? The Jedi set a trap. They lured us into battle against a small Republic fleet. During the attack a team of Jedi knights boarded your ship. The Jedi strike team must have captured you and the Council clearly used the Force to erase your mind, to make you their tool!"

Kyle felt strange, like something was… bubbling… inside his head, almost.

"I will _make you see_," Malak promised darkly, raising his hand.

"No!" Bastila shouted.

Something foul and _dark_ smashed into Kyle's mind, like a rotting hand, smearing its filth through the crevices of his brain.

Kyle convulsed, and toppled. Bastila lunged forward, and caught the man, cradling him gently as he seized in her arms.

"What have you done?!" she demanded, terrified.

Malak didn't answer, he just stood back, watching intently.

Finally, Kyle relaxed, and his eyes opened… but Bastila wasn't sure who would be looking out of them at her. Her friend… or the man who'd tried to kill her.

"We… we know your face," Kyle said, his voice… different. He reached up, and touched her cheek, as if afraid she would crumble into dust.

"Her name is Bastila Shan, she was part of the Jedi strike team that captured you, Revan," Malak sneered.

The man in her arms turned his head, catching sight of Malak. Bastila could feel his turmoil, conflicting memories and events struggling to intermesh themselves.

This was not Revan, she realized… but it wasn't Kyle either.

"What's happening to us?" the man asked, frightened.

"You are waking up, _Revan,_" Malak growled, using the name as if it were a curse… or talisman.

The man stared at the woman, dozens of images and sounds flitting through his mind like a river. He didn't know who he was… but one of him knew she was a friend… and he knew that _she_ knew what had happened.

"Tell me," the man begged, "What was done to me?"

The woman's face fell, and somehow, the man could feel her heart break a little.

"I was part of the team sent to capture Revan... to capture you. When Malak fired on the ship you were badly injured. Your mind was destroyed, but I used the Force to preserve the flicker of life in your body. I brought you to the Jedi Council. They were the ones who healed your damaged mind," the woman told him, and the memories began to settle, finding new places to occupy… the silt and water separating.

"The Jedi Council didn't restore your wounded mind, Revan! They merely programmed it with a new identity - one loyal to the Republic! They tried to make you their slave!" the man with the angry voice argued.

The man began to remember more and more, he looked at _Bastila_, "Why not just let me die?" he asked.

"The Jedi hold all life sacred, even that of a Sith Lord. I could not just let you die, Revan. Not if it was possible to save you," Bastila said huskily.

"Bastila hides the truth behind noble words, Revan! Clearly, the Jedi needed the memories buried deep in your mind; there was no other way to bring them out. They had to keep you alive!" _Malak _interrupted.

"I wanted to tell you, but the Council forbade it! They were afraid you might return to the dark side if you discovered your past identity!" Bastila pleaded.

"But now you know the truth, Revan! The Council has failed in their attempt to make you their pawn." Malak chuckled.

"Were they real? These… other memories?" the man asked.

"Yes. They belonged to Kyle Draven, a commando who was mortally wounded during the assault on your ship," Bastila confessed.

"Why?" the man asked.

"Revan was too dangerous. But locked inside your mind was information the Republic needed: the secrets of the Star Forge. Your subconscious memories were supposed to lead me to the Star Forge; there was no other way to get the information."

"They made you their puppet, Revan - and Bastila was the handler pulling your strings!" Malak jeered.

"Squint, shut up," the man snapped.

Malak rocked back a step.

The man slowly stood, and pulled Bastila up with him.

"I wanted to help you, Revan. I thought this mission would redeem you; that it would atone for your past crimes. How else could you be saved?" Bastila whispered.

Revan pulled her closer, and rested his lips against her ear, "I understand," he whispered, and the turbulence that had masked his emotions from her fell away. Bastila could feel his darkness… the malice and cruelty in him… but almost as strong was something… noble. Something pure.

"I, Revan, remember your face, in the dark. You saved me," he whispered… "Now it is _our_ turn," he said grimly, plucking the dead Sith's lightsaber off her belt.

He edged in front of Bastila, and activated the ruby blade, and she sensed what had disturbed Malak:

Two men. One body. One purpose: _Bastila knows where to find the last Star Map, she doesn't need us to complete the mission._

"Get Carth out of here," Revan said calmly, his eyes watching Malak warily.

"I…" Bastila could think of nothing to say… "Why are you doing this?"

_Because we love you_. His thoughts burned in her mind, and she staggered back.

"A small part of me has always regretted betraying you from afar. I always knew there were some who would think I acted out of fear, that I did not want to face you," Malak said eagerly, "But now fate has given me a second chance to prove myself. Once I defeat you in combat no one will question my claim to the Sith throne; my triumph will be complete!"

"Triumph?" Revan asked, quietly amused, "You seem to have overlooked that I'm still alive."

"We shall finish this, as it was meant to be!" Malak roared, charging.

Revan spun forward, deflecting his apprentice's blade at an angle off of his own, and punched the taller man, subtly weaving a telekinetic blast into the blow, throwing Malak back.

"Bastila, _**run!**__"_ the Sith-Lord commanded, his voice like the crack of a whip. Malak threw up his hand, and Revan mirrored him, lightning erupted from their fingertips, dead locking in the space between them, squealing and straining, holding it away from Bastila and Carth.

Bastila shook off her shock, and pulled Carth to his feet, throwing his good arm across her shoulders, borrowing strength from the Force to half-carry the heavy man. She stepped into the turbolift, catching a glimpse of Revan pirouetting beneath one of Malak's strikes. The doors slammed shut, and the lift shot away, carrying her towards safety.

((()))

Malak rained heavy, punishing blows on his old master, trusting in the cortosis ore woven through his armor to protect him from reprisals. Revan's armor wouldn't stop a lightsaber… and he was out of practice. His limbs had partially forgotten the dance of the blade, just as his mind fumbled now for his power.

"You are weak, Revan," Malak sneered.

"At the moment, I do feel somewhat off-balance," Revan agreed, landing a kick to his apprentice's groin.

"To _forgive_ the ones who enslaved you…" Malak grunted.

"Let us clarify something," Revan said, back flipping away from a heavy, two-handed strike, "The people responsible for my enslavement are, in order of responsibility; you, Bastila, and the Jedi council. The council is dead, so there's not much I can do to them," Revan sighed, almost disarming Malak in the next exchange of blows.

"I haven't forgiven _you_ either, and at the moment, I'm trying very hard _to kill you_," Revan continued conversationally, irritating and distracting his opponent.

Malak growled in frustration, and threw a blast of kinetic energy at Revan. The Sith Lord raised his hand, creating a wedge of counter energy that deflected the blow harmlessly aside.

"And what of _Bastila?_" Malak goaded.

"I _am_ upset with her, but we think I can overlook her actions," Revan said optimistically.

"Because you are a fool!" Malak shouted.

"Perhaps… we're… rather taken with the girl," Revan admitted, sliding his blade down Malak's, almost disabling the weapon before Malak retreated.

"You've gotten soft," Revan realized, disappointed in his apprentice.

"I am stronger now than you _ever_ were!" Malak roared, charging back at his master.

"When was the last time _you_ killed someone? Having others killed doesn't count," Revan quizzed.

"Today I slew seven Jedi at once within the halls of their own academy," Malak boasted.

"That certainly sounds _impressive_… They weren't padawans, were they?" Revan asked, curious.

"No!" Malak snapped.

"Are you sure? It's a common mistake to make, they don't look much different, and the braid is easy to miss…" Revan asked politely.

"_I will kill you_," Malak seethed.

"Good effort, but your skill is sadly lacking…" Revan chuckled.

Malak yelled, wildly hacking at Revan, and the Sith Lord smiled grimly. Almost… almost… he continued to retreat from the frenzied man's attacks.

_Now_. Revan threw everything he had at his apprentice in a single telekinetic blast, focused down to the size of his fist. It hit Malak's chestplate with the force of a charging ronto. Malak flew helplessly down the long corridor, into the bridge, and Revan keyed the turbo lift doors behind him, stepped inside, and slowly slid down the wall as he was conveyed to the hanger.

Some days, it was damned hard to be a Sith Lord.

((()))

Carth dimly realized he wasn't _really _walking… more like _sort of _walking. It took him a moment longer to remember where he was.

"Bastila?" Carth asked.

Bastila was supporting most of his weight, compensating for the dizziness induced by his concussion, and the agony in his broken arm.

"What happened? Where's Malak?" Carth asked.

"We're almost to the ship," Bastila said, ignoring his question.

"Where is…" Carth trailed off.

"Revan…" Bastila finished.

"Yes," Carth said quietly.

"He's keeping Malak occupied," Bastila said. She juggled a comlink off her utility belt, since she'd lost her helmet at some point between _here_ and the bridge. "Canderous, we're almost at the hanger doors!"

"Good. Opposition's getting kind of thick," the mandalorian grunted.

Carth could hear a _lot_ of blaster fire. As soon as Bastila keyed the door open, Carth realized just how _much_.

Canderous stood at the base of the boarding ramp, legs widely braced in his stand-and-deliver stance. His heavy repeating blaster was wreaking havoc on the battle droids and troopers trying to press into the hanger bay. Next to him, Juhani and Jolee stood, their weapons deflecting most of the return fire away. Zaalbar was crouched on the boarding ramp, carefully dropping Sith with his bowcaster. Bastila didn't see HK-47, but someone on the far side of the freighter was firing a blaster rifle with uncanny accuracy.

"Bastila!" someone called behind them.

Carth and Bastila turned, spotting (Kyle? Revan?) break into a pained run. He held a lightsaber hilt in his hand. He motioned at them to keep running, his armored feet clattering on the deck.

"Canderous, we're going to make a run for it," Bastila said.

"Anytime now," the merc retorted, cutting down another squad of battle droids.

Bastila and Carth were half-way to the ship when Bastila heard Revan scream. Bastila spun in time to see the Dark Lord collapse, wracked by force lightning. The lightsaber tumbled from his hand, as Malak advanced mercilessly.

_Run!_ He screamed in her mind. Bastila snatched the fallen weapon with the Force, and ignited it. "Carth, get Revan to the ship, you are in command!" she snarled, and pushed off from the hanger deck, somersaulting to land in front of Revan, blocking the lightning with her lightsaber.

Carth was getting too old for this shit. He grabbed Revan's collar, and hauled the man across the slick hanger deck, his armor blackened, with wisps of smoke curling from it. Zaalbar darted out to Carth, grabbing them both and hauling them into the ship, which nearly made Carth pass out as his broken arm was jostled.

"What about Bastila?!" Juhani shouted.

"She's buying us time to escape!" Carth roared.

HK-47 clattered up the ramp, and raised it.

"Report: All but one master aboard," HK said.

"Jolee, get us out of here!" Carth coughed.

Revan struggled weakly against Zaalbar, "Bastila," he groaned.

He never saw the stunblast coming.

((()))

"Why?" Juhani demanded choking Carth.

"Ease up, child!" Jolee barked, separating them roughly.

"You left her to die!" Juhani accused, on the verge of tears… her _master…_

"Bah. Malak won't kill her, don't be foolish. He'll want to use her battle meditation against the Republic. Turn her to the dark side and the Sith will always be victorious," Jolee disagreed.

"We must go back!" Juhani demanded.

"Not so fast. We've got a bigger issue to deal with here," Carth said grimly.

((()))

Carth stared at the unconscious man, strapped to the biobed.

"What's this big _secret_, Carth?" Mission demanded.

"This man's name isn't Kyle Draven," Carth said grimly, "His real name is Darth Revan."

"Revan? What... what are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?" Mission stammered. It wasn't very funny.

"No, it's no joke. The Jedi Council captured Revan and erased the Dark Lord's mind, programming in a new identity. Malak told us on the Leviathan and Bastila confirmed it," Carth sighed.

"He's Darth Revan? This is... this is big. Does he... does he remember anything about being the Dark Lord?" Mission asked.

"I don't know," Carth admitted.

"Well, let's ask him," Jolee suggested.

"Are you insane? He's a Dark Lord!" Carth bellowed.

"So?" Canderous asked. Jettai, dar'jettai… it was hard to tell the difference.

"Now that his secret is out, how do we know he won't just kill us?" Carth argued.

"Observation: that would be very efficient. It's what I would do," HK said thoughtfully.

"Of _course _that's what you would do, now, go knit some socks from the tears of children, or some such," Jolee growled, rudely shooing the combat droid away.

While the _adults_ were arguing, Mission subtly injected a stimulant into Kyle's thigh. After a few moments, his eyes fluttered weakly, "Bastila," he whispered.

That shut everyone up.

Cautiously, the crew watched the dangerous man.

"Hey, Kyle," Mission said, with false perkiness.

"Hello Mission," Kyle sighed.

"You aren't Kyle," Carth said harshly.

"No," the man agreed sadly.

"So… what do you remember?" Mission asked, daring to sit on the bio bed, next to the man's knee.

"Faces, places… things I did… things I wanted to do…" Revan's eyes grew distant, "There are pieces missing, things I can't find," his voice grew frustrated.

"What about Kyle?" Mission asked.

"What about him?" Revan asked.

"Is he still in there?" Mission asked, in a very small voice.

Revan's face softened, "Yes Mission. We're both here."

"Then I don't think there's a problem," Mission said brightly, "It seems to me that if you aren't one hundred percent Revan, then it doesn't really matter anymore. You are who you are now, right?"

"_Of course it still matters!_ How do we know more memories won't come flooding back? How do we know Revan won't suddenly turn on us?" Carth demanded.

"You could ask us nicely," the man suggested amiably from where he was strapped down.

"Shut up!" Carth barked, he wasn't finished, damn it.

"The whole time we've been chasing after Malak we've had his old Sith Master right at our side; listening to our secrets; hearing our plans!"

"I don't see a Sith Lord lying there, I see a friend who's been with us through thick and thin! Remember - Malak's the one who destroyed Taris!" Mission protested.

Zaalbar threw in something affirmative sounding.

"After all Revan did... how could any of us forgive him?" Carth asked.

"It was Saul Karath who commanded the fleet that attacked your people, Carth. And it was Malak who gave the order. You know this," Canderous said sternly.

Juhani looked at the tired, battered man on the bio-bed, "I can feel the presence of the dark side in you, Revan - as it is in all of us. I judge you by your actions, and as long as we have been together I have seen you act as a servant of the light. You are a good man," Juhani said firmly.

"I already knew who you were, though it wasn't my place to tell you. Better off that you know, if you ask me. I'm not here to judge you. You'll do what you have to, and I'll help if I can," Jolee shrugged.

"Canderous, surely you agree with me!" Carth said desperately. Revan had all but wiped out the mandalorians.

The mandalorian shook his head staring at the restrained man.

"You defeated the Mandalorian clans in the war, Revan. You were the only one in the galaxy who could best us. We had never met one like you before, and never since. Wherever you go, whatever you do… it will be _worthy of my skill_. I'm your man until the end, Revan, no matter how this plays out," Canderous said, respectfully. Without hesitation, he began releasing the restraints on the bed, and helped Revan sit up.

The galaxy was insane, Carth realized. Too much was happening, too quickly.

Revan slowly looked up at Carth, "So… Carth, will you accept my help?"

"I really don't have any other choice, do I?" Carth asked bitterly.

Revan shrugged helplessly.

"I won't let you betray the Republic under any circumstances. Do you understand?" Carth asked harshly.

"We do, captain," Revan agreed.

"So I guess that's it then... we keep going. We've still got one more Star Map to uncover if we're going to find that Star Forge and save Bastila, so let's do it before it's too late," Carth said, holstering his blaster warily.

"The last Star Map is on Korriban," Revan said firmly. He looked lost for a moment, "We… think I know where it is…"


End file.
